Ride and Prejudice
by ClaireBamboozle
Summary: Life is a series of choices and making the wrong call can change someones life forever, just ask Edward Cullen. All Human.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I do not own Twilight or the original characters. This is written for fun and not commercial gain. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**A/N - Thanks for checking my story out. Just so you know, this one is probably going to weigh in around 50 chapters. I have 27 chapters already written (that's about 90000 words in old money) and a clear vision of how the rest will pan out. RL permitting, I hope to stick to a weekly posting schedule.  
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**This fic was inspired by a post by Rita01TX on the RobAttack Blog, which featured manips of Rob on motorcycles. (Be sure to check the blog out- fic recs and lots of lovely RobPorn - yum.) With thanks and cyber hugs to the lovely EeWee and Bevey99 who asked me to fic it. I hope you ladies like what I came up with. It may not be light and fluffy, or a quick romance fix, but I hope you'll love it all the same. So, with that in mind, sit back and buckle up because this is going to be a bumpy ride. (No pun intended.)  
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**Special thanks go out to my girls, Rita01TX for her editing skills and willingness to discuss everything from sex to murder in gchats whenever I get blocked. Keye for her speedy and supportive prereading, and Claudia for her magical ability to interpret my banner requests and convert them into works of art.**

**WARNING - This fic will contain references to physical assault. I know this can be a trigger for some people and with that in mind, I will add a warning in the A/N ahead of any such chapters.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter One

I heard him long before I saw him. The low, throaty rumble of the powerful machine that throbbed between his thighs as he flew along the slick, wet asphalt before turning into the school parking lot was unmistakable. The sound was primal, sexual and raw, vibrating through my hips and making my panties shockingly wet.

Part of the thrill was the chance to see him make the sharp, right hand turn through the gates before opening up the throttle to make the bike roar as he pulled it up the steep incline, the smooth, black enamel and polished chrome reflecting brightly even in the dull light as he coasted past the other, more sensible vehicles, the high mileage cars and battered trucks, before commanding the silver and black beast to a halt.

This morning, the air was dank, grey, and misty with drizzle. It coated me, plastering my limp hair flat against my head. I shouldn't even be here, lurking against the brickwork of the gymnasium like a stalker. I should be inside for roll call but the draw to sneak a peek at him is far too strong. My coat snagged on the rough brickwork as I pressed myself against the wall, trying to squeeze into the particles of mortar to make myself invisible. Butterflies danced in my belly. I clutched the thick textbook a little tighter to my chest and concentrated on trying to regulate my breathing.

It was always the same, the way he affected me. Without even trying, he gave me sweaty palms and a beet red face. If he ever actually looked directly at me and said hello, I would probably keel over at his feet in a dead faint.

Who was I kidding?As if anyone as effortlessly gorgeous as Edward Cullen would ever notice me. He's more popular, smarter, and funnier than I am. He's also a sophisticated senior while I'm just a shy, clumsy, sophomore loner.

The roar of the bike grew louder and I held my breath, the rumbling sound giving me tingles from my toes all the way up my spine with the anticipation of seeing him. I had just enough time to suck my bottom lip between my teeth before he went gliding past.

He looked so good straddling the machine; totally in control, lean thighs flexing under tightly stretched, black cotton, matt leather boots angled against rubber footrests. His ancient, distressed jacket looked soft as it molded to his broad chest and tapered in at his narrow waist. I'd lost count of the number of nights I'd lain in bed, lulling myself to sleep with thoughts of being able to run my palms over him, feeling the supple, yielding leather. I was sure it would feel smooth and warm from the heat of the body it protected.

After a final growl, the shining monster stilled under his instruction and he back-heeled the kickstand before resting the bike. The drizzle was still falling, soaking me through. I wiped the back of my sleeve over my face and tried not to let my jaw hang open as Edward dismounted his machine. His visor was mirrored and peppered with tiny water droplets that concealed his eyes and it was thrilling to think he could be watching me. His clear green eyes might actually be touching my body at this very moment, following every curve and line, licking his lips in anticipation of curling his fingers into the flesh of my hip as he pulled me roughly towards him, claiming my lips with an urgent kiss.

Holy cow! I'd been watching way too many chick flicks, lately. A twinge of embarrassment for being such a shameless voyeur shivered through me but still, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

He flicked the chinstrap open and dragged the helmet away from his head and I finally got to see the full perfection that was Edward Cullen. Sharp jawbone, high cheekbones and full lips so often pulled into a ready-to-kiss pout. He ran the fingers of one hand through his flattened hair, restoring the bronze colored strands to their usual chaotic state as he stowed the helmet away in its specially mounted box until the end of the school day.

I don't think I blinked even once, too afraid to miss a second of his glorious preening.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and started walking towards me, peeling the black gloves from his hands as he moved_. Dayum!_ Even the way he strode across the yard was mesmerizing to watch; all lean and sinuous, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he passed. He should really have his own theme song; something with a sexy, powerful beat. That old song, Connection, by Elastica, would be perfect. I tried not to grin as I let the music play in my head and realized I was right. Although I was already flattened against the wall, I tried to press farther back, merging myself a little more and, for once, I was actually grateful for being so plain and unremarkable. If he had the faintest idea how much I yearned for him, I would curl up and die from mortification.

As if to chastise me for my lustful thoughts, the rain began falling heavier, the light drizzle giving way to larger, heavier drops. A trickle of cold moisture made its way inside my collar and ran down my spine, causing me to wriggle in discomfort. In a moment, he would be gone and I could scuttle inside and normal service would resume.

The damp air carried the scent of leather and citrus aftershave to my nostrils, a fragrance I would forever associate with him.

"Hey," he murmured softly as he passed, flicking his head back and my heart skipped a beat.

Edward Freakin' Cullen said 'hey'...to me! My stomach twisted and I felt lightheaded. I didn't exactly collapse at his feet, the proximity of the wall certainly saving me from sliding on my ass. As it was, my tongue was dumbstruck and refused to work, delivering a sort of grunt-squawk when I meant to say _hey _back. Apparently, the vessels controlling the flow of blood to my face were all working perfectly, though, painting my cheeks the same vivid shade of red as a sun ripened tomato.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

No such luck…of course! His mouth pulled into a lopsided smirk and he snorted softly before shaking his head as he left me behind in the pouring rain.

Edward Cullen knew I existed! The rest of the morning sped by in a goofy-grinned, walking-on-air kind of blur. I don't think I paid much attention to any of the mundane words spoken by the teachers or my friends, all so uninspiring and dull, colorless droning that paled into insignificance against the blazing glory that was Edward Cullen's smile.

At lunchtime, I snuck into the library, hoping to make this a Golden Ticket day by getting the chance to see him again. I knew he sometimes spent time there, maybe studying for a test or working on a particular project.

Giddy with excitement, I grabbed a dog-eared, hardback copy of Wuthering Heights from the shelves. Its plastic dust cover was yellowed with age, the torn, inner pages bearing the results of a hundred students before me who had marked their spot by bending down the corners of the pages. I propped it up on its splayed edge and pretended to be absorbed by the boring words it contained. Maybe having a classic on the table would give me an air of sophistication should he happen to wander in and glance in my direction. It wasn't long before I realized there was an added bonus in having the book at this angle. It meant I could scan the room like a sniper without having to raise my head and draw anyone's attention.

I congratulated myself on my sneaky skills and did a quick double-check to make sure the book was right side up. It would be just my luck for him to catch me reading it upside down.

My mind was rambling away nicely, imagining him sidling over and complimenting me on my choice. I would smile and shrug, trying not to grin widely and fist pump as he pulled out the chair beside me. I could almost feel his knee rubbing against mine as he leaned forward, running his fingers through his thick mess of hair, licking his lips before he opened his mouth to discuss the finer points of classical literature.

_Crap!_ It felt like I'd been doused with ice water as I realized I'd have no chance holding up my end of the conversation if he did.

Maybe I'd have been better off with a copy of something more girly; a book he definitely wouldn't have read, like one of those vamp novels or something about angels. I started to twist out of my seat when the door flew open and I froze like a deer in the headlights. Edward and his friend, Jasper, I think his name was, had just come barreling through the door in a flurry of hair and teeth and swinging backpacks.

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I slid back into my seat as carefully as possible. They didn't seem to notice me; then again, why should they? Most of the population of Forks High regarded me with little more interest than something nasty they stepped in.

I stared at the pages before me, the words blurring into one incoherent blob of ink as I willed my eyes not to stare at the flex of Edward's ass as they strolled past to settle at the next table over.

The guys were busy unpacking books from their bags when a squeal pierced the calm of the library.

"Baby!" a piercing squeal erupted from the door as Alice Brandon, from the year above me, came rushing over and pretty much launched herself onto Jasper's lap.

Edward huffed in irritation, his fingers buried deep in the strands of his hair. "So much for a trig study hall," he muttered harshly under his breath.

"Heeey, Alice," Jasper crooned, rubbing his nose against her neck like a pony Jonesing for a sugar lump. His hand slid under the edge of her sweater and began creeping its way up her back, making her giggle and squirm.

Edward slumped against the hard plastic chair and roughly slammed open a text book.

"What flew up his ass?"

Alice rolled her eyes, knowing full well she was the source of Edward's irritation.

"We...well, _I'm_ trying to study for a trig test so, if you wouldn't mind keeping the face sucking to a minimum..."

Alice shrugged, turning away from Edward's death glare.

"Just 'cause no one loves you, Cullen, there's no need to be bitter about it."

I almost leaped to my feet and declared myself on the spot. In fact, I probably would have if I hadn't been so shocked that Alice didn't seem to see his divine awesomeness. She rubbed her nose against Jasper's before sinking into a slurpy, sloppy kiss that made Edward cringe and me feel a little queasy.

Edward shook his head and turned away, his eyes landing on me. I stared back, my chest too tight to breathe. One side of his lips twitched and I was suddenly aware of my dry mouth and slack jaw.

"Hey, um..." his nose scrunched adorably as he raked through his memory to come up with a name, "Ella?"

Ella...Bella, what was one letter between friends? It was close enough; almost like a pet name. I was so elated he kind of knew who I was, I didn't try to correct him.

His eyes danced between my face and the book on the desk in front of me.

"You enjoying that?"

I shrugged, desperate to avoid a conversation about a book I was only pretending to read. Edwards's eyes narrowed and his mouth puckered into a bemused pout as he tilted his head.

"Don't say much, do you?"

I bit my bottom lip and tried not to grin as I slowly shook my head. This was freaking amazing! I was actually talking...well, maybe not talking, but definitely getting attention from the hottest guy in Forks.

Edward hesitated for a second, glancing back at his friend, who had Alice coiled around him tighter than ivy on a tree stump, before looking back at me.

"Would you mind if I sat over there with you? There's too much to distract me here."

"No," I said, my dry throat making the word a high pitched squeak.

While he gathered his belongings, I glanced around making a mental note whether anyone else was actually here to witness the momentous event where Edward Cullen decided to spend his lunch break sitting next to Bella Swan. _Bingo!_ Gossip hound, Jessica Stanley, was at the counter retuning a book. With any luck, rumors of us being an item would be circulating by the end of next period.

It might not be strictly true but it would be nice to pretend, to have the chance to deny and look coy and, besides, it couldn't hurt to have everyone think I might be interesting enough to snag someone as cool as Edward. I blushed a little in shame at my selfishness when his knee innocently touched mine under the table and left my skin tingling.

I wasn't totally surprised but still felt a prickle of disappointment when Edward actually started to study. It stung the little bit of me buried deep down, the part that hoped he might be able to see beyond the mud brown eyes and dull, scraped-back hair to the girl inside; the one who would be perfect for him. He pulled the cap off his pen with his perfect, white teeth and rolled it between them while he made notes on a scrap of paper. His eyebrows slid together as he concentrated, causing a little pucker to form between them. My father had the same furrow when he was thinking but, on Edward, it was cute and I had an impulse to lick it. I reined myself in knowing if I were to actually do something as creepy and impulsive as that in the library, the whole school would certainly be talking about me tomorrow and not in a, _Wow, Bella Swan must be cool and we missed it_, kind of way but in more of a, _she did whaaaattt? To whooo? _I puffed out a big breath and immediately regretted it when Edward looked up, pen cap still in his mouth. His lips had closed around it, leaving them poised in a kissing pucker. Damned if I wouldn't mind being that Sharpie right about now.

"You're really not enjoying that, are you?"

My eyes were drawn to the way his plush lips moved around the hard plastic and I really had to concentrate to hear his words.

"Huh?"

Great! Not only will he think I'm dull and uninteresting, I'm obviously inarticulate, too. He pulled the cap from his lips and put it on the table. I tried not to stare as it rolled, glistening with his saliva.

"Wuthering Heights...I said, you're not enjoying it?"

Was it so obvious? I knew he wasn't being patronizing and he had no reason to know I was only using the book as a decoy but, for some reason, I felt the need to defend my choice.

"It's okay…a little slow, but it's getting there."

He nodded and I was mentally patting myself on the back for sounding like I had read more than one line, when he added.

"It wasn't one of my favorites. Which part are you reading right now?"

_Busted!_

My eyes scrambled over the words on the page, desperately hoping for some clue as to what was happening on page 97, but none of it made any sense. Edward was watching me; I could feel his stare on my shoulder as he waited for an answer. There was nowhere to hide; he had me cornered. In defeat, I closed the book and took a deep breath before confessing.

"I have no idea what's happening. I've tried to read it," _well, one or two lines, anyway, _"but it's not grabbing me at all."

I steeled myself for the ridicule I was sure would follow as the truth of my ignorance became apparent.

"Nah; I know what you mean. I've seen girls reading it and almost swooning so I thought I'd try it. I managed to get to the end but it was heavy going. I much preferred The Hunger Games."

Relief flooded my desiccated system. He wasn't going to rat me out or make fun of me. Although I didn't think it possible, he ascended a higher level still on the pedestal upon which I'd placed him in my heart. Edward smiled warmly before returning to his studies, his green eyes crinkling, and I couldn't help but grin back.

That was the moment my feelings changed from infatuation to love. I might not have been old enough to have any real experience with boys and God knows I didn't have a great example at home with my divorced parents, but I knew. I was in love with Edward Cullen. He was handsome, clever, sweet and kind. What more could I...or any girl, for that matter, wish for? The ice was broken between us and, although he might only view me as a friend, it was a start; something I could build on while I tried to wheedle my way into his heart. I was desperate to keep him talking, wanting to ask him about anything…his bike, his family, even his trig test would do, but I was thwarted when the bell sounded to end our lunch break.

Alice and Jasper finally pulled apart, their faces pink and shiny, and I tried not to look disgusted. It was only what I wanted to do to Edward. Knowing I was channeling my jealousy into disapproval, I forced myself to look away.

"Well, Ella, thanks for letting me share the table. I'll see you around."

He slung his bag over his shoulder before yelling at Jasper to put Alice down and get his butt into gear before they were late for next class.

"Sure, anytime."

I managed a weak smile. Somehow, his words sounded final, like he was saying goodbye. My guts churned and I wanted to ask if he would be here again tomorrow but I was too late; he was already out the door, arguing over whether Jasper's truck could beat his bike in a race and leaving me alone with Emily Bronte.

"You like him, huh?"

Alice's whisper in my left ear was too loud and made me jump.

"What?"

"Eddie…you like him."

My eyes swiveled to catch her grinning at me. My mind whirled, wondering how to reply. She was his best friend's girl, someone who could put a good word in for me or, just as easily, destroy my chances. I panicked, wondering what would be the right thing to say.

I went with the fail-safe, if in doubt, deny everything.

"I don't know what you mean."

It didn't sound convincing, even to me. She shook her head.

"Whatever. I saw the look in your eyes. You. Like. Him."

_Shit!_ How could she have seen anything? She spent the entire time trying to engulf Jasper's head with her lips and I was sure she must have had her eyes closed. I didn't know what to say so I rolled my own and focused on gathering my stuff together.

"Okay, deny it all you want but it's obvious."

She started to walk away before turning back.

"You know, he's a nice guy...most of the time. You could do worse."

Then she was gone.

Still reeling from the aftereffects of the most exciting lunch break ever, I scrambled out of the library and made it over to my gym class. I wasn't very sporty and, as a result, I was always the last one picked for a team. Then, invariably, I was given a position which ensured minimal involvement in the game.

Today, this was a blessing because it meant I had plenty of time to rerun the library conversation I'd had with Edward and pick through my feelings. However, much as I thought about it, one thing kept niggling at me; the way he'd said "see you around." It was almost like he wasn't going to be…around, that is.

It bothered me and, had I known the chain of events that were about to unfold, I would have moved Mount Everest to make him to stay home that night.

**A/N You all know the drill by now, LOL. Like it, loathe it, got some thoughts about what happens next? Put something in the box below and we'll talk :)**

**See you next week.**

**Claire xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer-SM owns it all. This is written for fun, not commercial gain. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**A/N- Wow, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed. I was blown away with the positive response to chapter one and I hope you all continue to enjoy. **

**A big thank you goes to the lovely ladies over at The International House of Fan Fic for featuring my story on their great site. and to FicTease for posting a teaser for this chapter and sending more people over today. In future I will post a teaser to the next chapter there on a Tuesday and post the chapter it relates to later that day, so you don't need to wait too long.  
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**Special thanks to Keye for being honest in her pre reads, Rita01TX for applying the polish to my words and LeechLover for turning my ideas into a work of art (the link to my banner is on my profile, just in case you haven't seen it yet) and last but not least, EeWee and Bevey99 who wanted me to write motorcycleward. **

**Chapter Two**

Unfortunately, coming home to an empty house was becoming remarkably routine for me. In fact, I was more surprised on the odd afternoons where I rounded the corner and saw my father's police cruiser parked in the driveway.

It was just the two of us, now. Seven years had passed since my mother decided to abandon us in favor of chasing around the country after her minor league, baseball playing toy boy. Not that she needed to spend her life on the road to be with him but, as a cougar on the wrong side of thirty-seven, she was desperate to keep her claws buried in the firm young ass of the fit and reasonably attractive twenty-eight-year-old sportsman she'd somehow managed to snag and there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to let him fall prey to any of his slutty groupies.

I didn't mean to sound bitter about it, although I was at first. While it had crippled me to watch her climbing into a cab with a packed suitcase as a confused and frightened nine-year-old girl, I'd gradually come to realize she didn't feel she had a choice. She was never cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. It was like keeping an exotic butterfly in a jar. Everyone could enjoy looking at the beautiful colors and the fragility of its wings but it would never thrive there and, in the end, the same glass walls that shielded it from the harsh elements would eventually suffocate it and become its tomb.

At first, I hated her for choosing him over Dad and Phil might as well have had horns and a forked tail for what little I thought of him but I suppose the thing I found hardest to face was admitting my father, Charlie, was hard to live with. Don't get me wrong; he wasn't a bad person but he was quiet, emotionally closed off…a by-product of the job to which he was so devoted. Add to that his habit of wanting to spend any free time alone, fishing, or up on the reservation watching the game with his friends and I suppose it was easy for her to feel neglected. Here she was, stuck in a small town, pretty much raising me alone, with good looks that were starting to fade, and she wasn't getting what she needed from him…attention, compliments and lively conversation. She found no fulfillment in reading Dr. Seuss and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so she made what she calls the hardest decision of her life, turning her back on her husband and only child in an attempt to save her sanity.

Gradually, and it wasn't an easy road by any means, I'd managed to let go of the hate, recognizing that I was the only one it was damaging, twisting me up on the inside and making me resentful and bitter. I don't think we would ever have the close, loving relationship I witnessed with my classmates. Hell, I didn't even call her Mom anymore but at least we were civil to each other and I'd even spent two weeks of last year's summer vacation at their rented home in Arizona. It went a long way towards building some bridges between Phil and me. He was friendly enough and did seem to be genuine in his affection towards my mother but time would tell if he'd trade her in for a younger model and crush her heart in the future. After all, what goes around has a nasty habit of coming around to bite you on the ass when you least expect it.

I let myself inside the small, white painted, clapboard house and headed straight for the kitchen. Groceries were getting low again. I rummaged through the shelves in the refrigerator and, aside from a stock of beer, managed to find a few eggs and an onion. I sighed; it would have to be Spanish omelet again for dinner. Glancing at the wall clock, I saw I had a couple more hours before Dad got home. That was plenty of time to make a list of what we needed from the grocery store before I had to start cooking.

I headed to the sanctity of my room and dived straight into my homework. I was never going to be an honor roll student but I could do without getting detention for not turning it in on time.

However, my mind was even less engaged than usual. I wasn't the least bit interested in the essay I had to write for Mr. Banner. I mean, who the fuck cared about the life cycle of a blowfly? Not me! I'd much rather study human biology…one fine specimen, in particular. It was impossible to keep my thoughts from drifting to Edward's lips, the way they pursed into a perfect-for-kissing pout whenever he was thinking and the way they moved as he played with the plastic pen cap between his teeth in the library. God, I wanted to feel them pressed against mine. The mere suggestion of it caused a distinct throbbing between my legs.

With the exception of family members, and practicing on the back of my hand, I'd only been kissed once before and it hadn't been a particularly pleasant experience. It happened last Christmas at Angela Weber's birthday party. Most of the class were there and some hormone laden genius suggested playing Seven Minutes of Heaven. I wasn't especially eager to participate but didn't want to appear prissy, so I went along with it.

First round, Jessica Stanley was locked in the closet with Eric Yorkie. I still don't know what happened when that door closed but Eric emerged blinking and looking downright shell-shocked when they were eventually let out and, for once, Jessica remained tight-lipped, although she had a self-satisfied smirk on her face for the rest of the night. For a while, Eric even followed her around school like an obedient puppy.

My experience didn't go quite so well. I drew Mike Newton, one of the creepy geek boys. He was top of the class in math, a member of the chess club, and had more metal in his mouth than that big Bond villain guy. Not that I was against braces; there had been a time I had to wear a retainer but mine was just a clear nylon string; whereas, his was made up of big blocks of metal somehow fused to the front of his teeth. I supposed they were doing an important job and might even give him the best smile in the school, if he ever got lucky enough to have them removed. The braces themselves wouldn't be so bad on their own, except he didn't seem to put much effort into keeping them clean. There was often a piece of greenery from lunch wedged behind one of the wires and it made me queasy to watch him suck the leftovers from around them in class. _Ugh!_ The soundtrack was even worse!

With accompanying whoops and whistles from the class, we were forcibly hustled into the cramped, dark space and locked in. I took a deep breath, ready to warn Newton to keep to his side of the closet, when he tackled me. In an instant, his wet, sloppy mouth was on mine. For a moment, I was too shocked to react. His hands were groping in the darkness, trying to find something to latch onto; a breast, most likely, but he missed his target, finding an elbow and shoulder instead. I tried to push him away but it was like being mauled by a big, slobbering dog and I could feel his drool sliding down my chin. I squealed when the metal on his teeth scraped painfully against my bottom lip. He was too busy making another attempt at finding a soft target to notice I wasn't enjoying it, his hands roaming and squeezing wherever they could reach. I pushed against him, hoping to shove him off, but he was heavier than I imagined and I couldn't budge him. There wasn't much room in this tiny space and his hands quickly found their way onto my boobs, rubbing his flattened palms over them in circles like he was polishing a car hood. I tried again to buck him off and felt something hard poke me in the hip.

_Eeewww! _A boner.

The thought of him being sexually aroused made me want to gag and it was only when I heaved that he finally unlatched his mouth from mine.

"Hmm, Bella, you're an amazing kisser," he groaned.

It was still too dark to see anything properly. The thin sliver of light under the door didn't provide enough light but I felt him move his hand down towards the front of his pants. My eyes widened in horror as I realized he was rubbing himself.

"You wanna feel what you do to me?"

That was when I screamed. There was no handle on the inside of the closet but I was banging the hell out of the door with my fists, desperate to get away from Mike and his unwelcome hard on. Almost instantly, the door was yanked open and we both fell out onto the floor, squinting against the bright light. Mike was lying on top of me, a position he'd probably be recalling when he jerked himself off that night.

"Oh, my God, Mike!" Jessica snorted, "What did you two do in there?"

That night was possibly one of the worst of my existence and still haunts me to this day. I try and avoid any situations where I might wind up alone with Mike, especially since he's fond of giving me a knowing nod or wink if I'm ever unfortunate enough to catch his eye.

I shook my head to rid it of the cringe-worthy memories.

Kissing Edward wouldn't be anything like that, I was sure. He certainly looked like he knew how to make it feel good for a girl. I let myself get lost in a daydream, imagining how it would play out.

He would be sitting astride his Harley, wearing the helmet that made it impossible to see his expression. As I moved towards fantasy Edward, he tilted his head to the left and beckoned me to come closer with one leather-clad hand. I watched him roll back his shoulders, releasing the tension as I tentatively moved closer. When I was within ten feet, he carefully eased himself back on the saddle before standing and dismounting in one smooth move.

It took me a second to drink in the sensual vision of prime, male perfection before me. Heavy black boots were partly hidden by the frayed cuffs of his faded, tightly fitted blue jeans. His black leather jacket was partly unzipped, showing a glimpse of the chest-hugging white t-shirt beneath. My heart rate accelerated as I anticipated the look on his face. Would he be grinning with his lips pulled up into that sexy-as-hell, lopsided smirk, or licking his lips as his eyes raked over my body? Part of the excitement was not knowing if he was taking advantage of his anonymity and letting his eyes wander without reproach over my body. I wondered if it would feel like a shock of electricity the moment his eyes slid over the swell of my breasts and settled on my hips.

The air between us was changing, becoming heavy, making me gasp to get enough air into my lungs. I bit my lip as one of his hands lifted to flick open the catch on his chinstrap before pulling the helmet swiftly from his head.

His eyes never left mine as he stalked across the asphalt to meet me, a penetrating green gaze that obliterated everything standing between us. Using his teeth, he tugged the fingers of one hand free of his leather glove before running them through his flattened hair, restoring it to its more usual chaotic mess.

The other hand reached out, fingers curling against my hip bone, and tugged me forward roughly. My body slammed against his, the texture of his leather jacket making my nipples harden. His shapely lips were pursed and his jaw flexed as he leaned down to brush his lips lightly against mine. For such a gentle touch, the sensation made me quiver. I flung my arms around his neck, twining my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer. His kiss quickly became urgent, needy, his tongue pressing against my lips, parting them before swirling to tangle with my own.

God, yes! That there…that would be a real kiss.

A key rattling in the front door dragged me abruptly back to reality. I packed up my books with a sigh and bounded down the stairs. Charlie met me at the banister and so began our regular routine of me cooking while he sat at the table and watched.

"So, how was work today?" I asked with expectantly raised eyebrows. Who knew; maybe today was the day something exciting might happen, like a homicide or an armed bank robbery. He shrugged, his usual response when there was nothing to report. Forks was a small town and, for a policeman with more than two decades of service, he had a surprisingly short list of interesting stories to tell. Municipal misdemeanors, some petty theft and an occasional bleary drunk. I poked at the contents of the frying pan with a wooden spoon. "We're getting low on stuff. I've made a list."

He nodded, picking up the paper and shoving it in his pocket. "I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"Great."

I slid the ready omelet out of the pan and divided it between two plates, giving him the larger portion.

"Anything happen in school today?" he asked, loading his fork and skilfully avoiding catching his mustache hairs in the eggs. I felt my face heat up as I remembered Edwards's knee grazing my thigh and my expectation of his kissing prowess.

"Nah, nothing new," I lied, twirling my fork around a piece of onion, unable to meet his beady, police chief eyes.

"Well, that's good...I guess," he said, taking another bite.

The rest of the meal was consumed in silence, only the scrape of metal on china disturbing the peace. I got up to wash the dishes while he slunk off to watch the game on TV.

Once the kitchen was shipshape, I hung up the damp dish towel.

"I'm going to jump in the shower and turn in," I called out to the gloom of the living room. The television was on, the game in full swing and, although he was spread out, half asleep in the chair, he still managed to raise an arm to let me know it was fine by him.

As I climbed the stairs, that small feeling of dread niggled at me again. _"I'll see you around." _I didn't know why those four words, and the way Edward said them, bothered me so much. I didn't usually have hunches, or whatever the hell this was, but I couldn't shake the conviction that something was desperately wrong.

I showered quickly, slipped into a clean tank top and shorts before drying my hair, and climbed into bed. Sleep claimed me quickly, bringing with it dreams of shiny chrome and enamel monsters that roared like lions.

I woke with a start, my sleep-fogged brain trying to make sense of what had disturbed me. Was that a bang? Had someone broken into the house? I strained my ears and could just about make out the sound of footsteps but they weren't in the house; they were outside and followed by what sounded like the opening of a car door.

I hopped out of bed and dashed over to the window, not immediately feeling the coolness of the night air, in time to see Charlie climbing into the cruiser and starting it up. He seemed to be in a hurry, reversing quickly into the street, before hurtling off in the direction of town.

I squinted at the luminous fingers of the bedside clock, trying to make sense of the time. One thirty am. That sickly feeling washed over me again. Something wasn't right. There was no way I would be able to just go back to sleep so I dragged the comforter from my bed, wrapping it around my shoulders before I crept down the stairs.

I flicked on the kitchen light. It buzzed for a moment while it struggled to reach full strength and I noticed the small scrap of paper propped against the salt shaker.

It was my father's handwriting.

_Bella, had to deal with an emergency call. Someone's hurt. I'll be back ASAP. _

My knuckles were white as I read and reread the note. My stomach churned and it felt like I was going to puke. This was it…the reason behind the bad feelings. It was an omen. Every fiber in my body was screaming that Edward was the person who was hurt. My knees wobbled and I stumbled onto a chair to save myself falling to the floor. It was fear for Edward's safety wrapped up in shock at my strange premonition. It must have been that damned bike. He'd probably been out somewhere, driving too fast, and had an accident.

The rest of the night found me sitting at the table, flip-flopping between worrying and praying I was wrong. I was desperate to speak with my father, hanging onto the hope that my gut instincts were somehow wrong.

I didn't know how much time had passed but it was daylight when he finally returned, grave and exhausted after spending the entire night on the job.

He was shocked to see his only child waiting for him, an ashen faced, wide eyed mess.

"Is it Edward Cullen?" I whispered, praying I was wrong, that it had been some unknown tourist who'd taken one of the coastal bends too quickly; maybe an unfortunate camper who'd encountered an irritable grizzly in the woods, or a rock climber who'd taken a tumble. Not that I wanted someone else to be hurt; I just really couldn't stand the thought that it could be him.

He took a deep breath before nodding his head.

I bent forward with my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. A long, keening wail filled the kitchen.

**A/N - Um, so yeah, another ciffy...you ready to throttle me yet? Shuffles feet and tries to look innocent. **

**Love it, hate it or just want to vent at me for being mean and leaving it there...you know where the box is ;)**

**See you next week.**

**Claire xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer- I don't own Twilight or the characters, this is written for fun and not commercial gain. **

**A/N. Well, y'all survived me pulling the double cliffie and you've come back for more.**

**Thanks as always to Rita01TX, Keye and Claudia for their Beta, pre reading and banner making skills and EeWee and Bevey99 for prodding me to write this Edward for them. **

Chapter three

Even I was shocked at the animalistic sounds pouring out of me and immediately clapped both hands over my mouth to stop them escaping. My insides felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, crushing all my vital organs. I couldn't get enough oxygen and I was sure I was going to pass out any second; either that or hurl…I couldn't be sure which.

My father stood rooted to the spot; eyes wide, mouth hanging open, caught completely off guard and unsure how to deal with my raw, emotional reaction. Ever the professional, he didn't hesitate for long, shaking his head as he put on his game face.

"I didn't know you were friendly with the Cullen boy." He gave me a sideways look, disapproving I think. "He's a lot older than you."

"He's eighteen," I spat the words out, as if I was defending him. "It's only two years...I should have stopped him. How bad was it?" _Please don't be dead! Please don't die! _

My father's face darkened and he sucked in a long breath.

"The boy's in a bad way. They've put him in a coma to try and reduce the swelling on his brain."

I did cry then, a long whiny sound. _A brain injury! _Why the hell wasn't he wearing his helmet?

"Noooo! He can't be hurt…he can't," I gasped.

All those months of watching and I was only just getting him to notice me. Now I would never get to kiss him, hold him, gaze into his eyes and hear him say he loved me...

"Bella, how did you know he was going to do this?" He cut my ramblings short, the judgmental look morphing into a frown, puckering the skin between his brows. It reminded me of how Edward had looked in the library and I screwed my eyes closed so I couldn't see it. "Did he say something in school?"

"I knew," I groaned, between short, panting breaths. "I knew I wouldn't see him again and he said he'd be around...I just knew. I should've stopped him...that damned bike...I knew it."

I dissolved into tears, my hands shaking and swiping at my eyes while I cried for poor Edward.

"Bella; I know it's a shock but I need you to think carefully. What exactly did Edward say about Royce?"

My brain was racing too fast to fully understand even half of what he was saying. Images of Edward lying mangled and twisted over the broken frame of his bike assaulted me and, when I couldn't take it any longer, I grasped his wrists and blurted, "He said the bike would beat his truck any day of the week."

"Whose truck, Bella? What are you talking about?"

I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together enough to attempt producing a coherent sentence.

"Jasper Hale! He…he was making fun of Edward's bike and Edward said he could beat him in a race any day."

"I think you're getting mixed up, here," he said, speaking slowly and carefully, "This incident was between Cullen and Royce King."

"Who?" I asked, completely baffled as I struggled to keep up with this twist in the conversation.

"Royce King! Edward beat up the kid real bad last night." He pulled his lips together in a tight line, making his mustache ripple like one of those fat, hairy caterpillars. "We've got him in custody but he won't say why he did it. Did he mention anything in school?"

I was shocked…absolutely blindsided. There had to be some mistake! Edward wasn't violent or aggressive; he was a sweet guy. If I didn't know he was the Chief of Police, I'd have put money on Dad getting this so wrong.

"No! He was in the library with me…," I saw Dad's jaw clench, so I added, "studying with his friend, Jasper, for a math test. We talked about books."

His eyebrows arched, never having seen me curled up with a book in all the time he'd known me.

"When they left, they were joking about how slow Edward's bike was."

"So, you've never heard him talk about having a grudge against the King boy?"

"I...I don't know Edward that well, Dad, but I don't believe he could hurt anyone. I've never seen him lose his temper." It hurt to admit he moved in a different circle from mine. I couldn't look my father in the eye so I let my focus slide to the floor and noticed I still had bare feet. Strange…they didn't feel cold.

"Well, he lost it last night, big time. They're saying the poor kid might never recover."

"How's Edward?" I cringed internally as the words slipped out. Of course it sounded callous to be concerned about the attacker when his victim was lying in a hospital bed but I'd never heard of this Royce boy and, truthfully, I still couldn't believe Edward capable of hurting a fly.

Charlie's frown was back with a vengeance, making him look stern and threatening. I wondered if this was the face he used on the rare occasion he had to interrogate a suspect.

"He broke a couple of knuckles, but he'll live," he said on a sour note.

"Where is he?" For a brief moment, I wondered if Dad would let me go to him. It hurt my heart to think of him alone at the station or the ER, in police custody. I knew he wouldn't open his arms and declare his undying love for someone he'd only spent one lunch break with but I felt sure he'd be grateful at the sight of a friendly face.

"He's in a police cell. The doc took a look at his hands before discharging him to us."

"Alone?" I asked, still considering my hair-brained idea of sweeping in to stand by his side.

"His mother and sister came to see him."

He sighed, leaving me to my thoughts while he made a pot of strong coffee for us both.

I felt numb and strangely empty. I'd admired Edward from a distance, virtually stalking him around campus, but I wondered how well I really knew him. Was it possible I could've missed something? Was he really a monster under that beautiful facade? Could he actually be hiding a cold hearted thug, capable of beating someone into a coma without blinking? I thought back over all the times I'd watched him and couldn't find anything to back up that theory. I knew his father had died, and something like that was bound to leave a mark, but he seemed well adjusted enough…studious, loyal to his friends and, even when he rode the Harley, he didn't seem to take unnecessary risks.

No! I couldn't accept he'd fooled us all. If…and I still couldn't quite bring myself to believe it, he did do the terrible thing Charlie said he did, I had to hang onto the hope that this Royce character had done something equally as horrendous to provoke him; otherwise, I'd be forced to admit my whole sense of right and wrong was messed up.

Over the next few months, I was drip fed morsels of information…some from the reliable source that was my dad and more from the less reliable gossip mongers at school. Edward never returned to Forks High. He'd been refused bail. The authorities felt the level of violence in the sustained attack, coupled with his refusal to give any clue as to why he did it, meant they viewed him as a real threat to the public. His behavior had everyone scratching their heads.

Forks was a small town…a place where nothing ever happened. Suddenly, everyone was united by the drama unfolding through zealous gossip. They all had a theory for why Edward had snapped. Speculation ranged from the plausible; maybe Royce had damaged Edward's bike, tried to date his sister, or stolen his girl, to the ridiculous notion that Edward was a drug dealer and Royce owed him money. Of course, my personal favorite was the rumor that Royce was his biological brother and Edward had tried to kill him to avoid sharing any inheritance when his mother died.

An extra, unexpected bonus for the scandal hounds was when Edward's mother collapsed in church. She was sitting in a pew with her daughter, Rosalie, when it happened. She and Rosalie had both stood to sing a hymn with the rest of the congregation when she started to falter. For a moment, she swayed on her heels before dropping to the floor in a dead faint. There was a small commotion as several parishioners rushed to get her seated on the bench and one even fetched a glass of water.

Rosalie just stood there and gaped as if Medusa had turned her to stone.

Rosalie Cullen, older than me by maybe six years, was quite the legendary local beauty. Her long, glossy, naturally blonde hair held just the right amount of wave to look glamorous without seeming too styled. This silken bounty framed a heart shaped face with slightly darker arched brows over long lashed, piercing blue eyes, high cheek bones, a straight but feminine nose, and luscious pink lips. In fact, if you had to design a perfect woman and had access to all the component parts, you'd be hard pressed to come up with a model more attractive than Rosalie. I envied her that, having always felt under pressure with my looks, as if I should be making more of an effort with my hair, or maybe by wearing some make-up, but it all seemed like hard work to me, whereas she had a way of making looking good seem so...effortless and, although she didn't look much like her brother, Edward, the Cullen siblings still made theirs the most aesthetically appealing family in Forks.

I didn't know her any better than exchanging a polite hello in the produce aisle, but I couldn't say I'd ever heard anyone say a bad word about her. However, it would appear Edward's incarceration wasn't only affecting his mom and me; it was taking its toll on Rosalie, too. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, as if she spent hour upon hour sobbing into her pillow, and her normally flowing hair had been yanked back into a severe and lank pony tail.

A rumor currently circulating was that Rosalie had been secretly dating Royce before the attack and Edward, resentful of having to share his sister's attention, attacked Royce in a jealous rage. It seemed ridiculous to me but, once these outrageous stories were out there, it was easy for some people to believe.

As for me, taking Edward away was like unplugging the sun. All of a sudden, my world seemed dull and gray. I attended school physically but, mentally, I just wasn't functioning properly. It was crazy; Edward and I didn't have any kind of real relationship. He'd never asked me out on a date or even sent me a valentine but I felt an irresistible pull towards him whenever he was around and I was missing him as if we'd been star-crossed lovers. In school, I gravitated to Jasper and Alice since being around them made me feel more connected to him. Alice was very kind about it all, taking pity on me. She already knew I liked Edward and she could see what others couldn't…that I was a stumbling mess without him. Although I was younger than both her and Jasper, she never made me feel unwelcome when I tagged along for lunch or asked Jasper for the umpteenth time if he'd heard anything from his best friend. I was always hopeful he might send a letter or maybe make a phone call but he never did.

Over the months, Royce came out of his coma but would be forever changed by the beating he suffered at Edward's hands. The resulting brain damage was so severe he'd need around-the-clock care for the foreseeable future, a shocking reminder to everyone of how fragile the human body really is.

I still found it hard to accept that Edward had carried out such a vicious attack but the evidence was overwhelming and he never tried to deny it. The mood in the town was turning nasty. Everyone had a bad word for Edward, painting him as a demon with horns hidden under his biker's helmet. He was out of control, a bully, a jealous tyrant, a bad student and had always been destined for a future in the big house.

I hated them for that. These people who hardly knew him took such pleasure in blackening his name with their prejudice. Poor Mrs. Cullen was spat upon in the street by one of Royce's cousins and someone took a baseball bat to Rosalie's car when it was parked outside the grocery store, smashing both front headlights. Funnily enough, even though it was broad daylight and the busiest time of day, no one saw or heard anything.

As the date for his sentencing approached, I became more and more agitated. It was obvious he was going to get some kind of custodial sentence…we just didn't know for how long. I prayed he would change his statement and disclose the reason behind his actions. At least, that way, he'd have a shot at a reduced sentence if he got a sympathetic judge. But he remained frustratingly silent, determined to take whatever motivation he'd had for carrying out such a heinous crime with him to his prison cell.

Eight years. That was his sentence…eight long years.

The judge took a dim view of his refusal to answer questions, reading it as arrogance and, in view of the severity of the attack, felt he had no choice but to take Edward off the streets for a long time.

I think I'd been in denial. The thought of not seeing him again hurt. I mean, it really fucking hurt. Just picturing his face made my chest feel so raw and tender, I'd refused to think about him being locked away for any length of time. When I finally heard the news, I felt my knees give out.

Eight years.

If he served the full time, he'd be twenty-six by the time he was released…a full grown man. I couldn't begin to comprehend what a twenty-six-year-old version of Edward would look like but I couldn't imagine being attracted to a guy that old. Then again, I remembered I'd be twenty-four when he got out. My mom had been married and become a mother by that age. An image of Mike Newton grinning around his braces while he rubbed his boner through his trousers flitted into my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, determined not to go where my brain was trying to lead me.

I'd never felt so small and helpless in my entire life. Edward and I would continue to exist on the same planet but we would be worlds apart. I wouldn't get to see his lopsided smile again or pretend I was pretty enough or exciting enough to capture his attention. I had nothing left. My parents were distant, school was boring, and I couldn't picture how my future would turn out. My dreams had been crushed beyond salvation.

They might as well have locked me in the neighboring cell because it felt like my life had been destroyed the moment they took him away.

**A/N. Sooooo, Eddie's gonna be away for a while...****on the bright side, there was no cliffie ending this week.**

**(Bamboozle dons Eddie's crash helmet and waits to dodge the incoming projectiles. Looks like he won't be needing it for a while.)**

**Hands up who wants to hear from the boy himself? EPOV coming next week.**

**Hugs **

**Claire xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or the characters, this is written for fun.  
**

**A/N Thanks to Rita01TX for applying the polish, Keye for making time in her life to pre read and Claudia for the kick ass banner. I wanted to remind everyone, this is a work of fiction and since I've never spent time in a UK prison, let alone a US one, I'm relying on Google, documentaries and word of mouth for the facts, so please go easy on me.  
**

**Warning re physical assault applies to this chapter.**

**I think we've all waited long enough to hear from our boy. I hope you enjoy. **

Chapter 4

EPOV

Wearing soft-soled sneakers, the walk along the steel gantry was surprisingly quiet, just the swishing sound the legs of my jumpsuit rubbing together made as I followed along behind the guard. I deliberately didn't peer into any of the dingy cells we passed, scared of what I might see. Images from The Shawshank Redemption clouded my already shit-scared brain, threatening to send me screaming over the rail if anyone so much as looked at me cross-eyed, let alone cat-called. I tried to project a tough guy image but, as an eighteen-year-old suddenly thrown into a prison full of hardened men, they probably saw right through the outward swagger down to the anxious, green kid I really was.

"In here, Cullen," the guard barked, indicating with his thumb, and I shuffled past him into the cell, my few scant belongings clutched in my hands. A towel, soap, toothbrush, spare underwear and a family photograph…all my worldly goods.

My good upbringing and ingrained manners had my mouth open to say thank you but the anxiety gripping my throat wouldn't let me say the words. Instead, I just stood dumbly and looked around my new home.

Oh, God! I didn't belong in here. Of course, I was guilty of a crime. I'd beat the shit out of Royce and, for that, I suppose I deserved some kind of punishment but, if the real story could be told, I had no doubt he'd be the one standing here quaking in his sneakers and I'd be treated as some kind of local hero. However, I'd made a promise…one that meant burying the truth forever and facing the consequences.

My eyes flickered around. Even though it was only a small cell, my brain refused to take it all in at once, just isolated snapshots of chipped paint on the walls, a steel framed bunk and a girlie calendar hanging ridiculously low on the wall, the topless cutie beaming as she pushed her perky tits in my direction. Her vibrant colors, softness and warmth stood in stark contrast to the cold, steel sink and toilet bowl on the opposite wall. The reality of where I was hit me like a wrecking ball to the gut and I dry heaved.

"Don't fucking puke on anything of mine or I'll break your legs," a voice rumbled from the darkness of the bottom bunk, explaining why Perky Tits was hanging at thigh level.

My heart was thumping painfully against my ribs. I hadn't even noticed I wasn't alone. I squinted into the gloom to make out who was there, terrified by his easy threat of violence. Even though my temper had landed me in here, I didn't really want to have to fight my new roomie...not on the first day, anyway.

"Hey." There was a fucking lump in my throat the size of a golf ball, one big enough to choke me. I nervously juggled my things from one hand to the other. "I'm Edward…Edward Cullen."

Silence. Great. This was going to be a long eight years with no conversation.

He shifted a little and put down the magazine he was reading. I couldn't see the cover but, if I had to guess, I'd put money on there being tits in there, too. His face was in the shadows, giving no indication of his expression but I figured he was sizing me up. I had a decision to make…I could either scuttle off to the top bunk, curl up and cry like a baby or I could gather every ounce of bravado in my six foot two frame and give him attitude, make a stand and let him know who he was dealing with. I could do bad ass…I mean, how tough could this guy be?

"Well, since you're leaving the introductions up to me, maybe I'll just call you Alice?"

Jasper's girl. It was the first name to pop into my head. I kept my voice low, trying to sound menacing. His lack of response left me holding my breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion, my muscles tightening in case I had to throw down.

"_'Cause for twenty-four years, I been living next door to Alice!"_ a disembodied voice from a neighboring cell sang out.

"_Alice! Who the fuck is Alice?"_ several other voices chimed in musically, followed by gales of raucous laughter.

I noticed the guy on the bunk wasn't laughing, though. Slowly dragging himself out from his cave, his large, bare feet slapped the floor and my eyes bugged at the heavy legs and massive thighs attached to them. A meaty fist wrapped around the frame of the bed as he pulled himself out and stood before me.

Uh, I think I might have made a slight miscalculation, this guy was easily three inches taller and about seventy pounds heavier than me. His jumpsuit was hanging half off, the sleeves tied in a knot around his waist to keep them from falling down. Huge, over-developed muscles rippled under the heavily inked skin of his chest and arms. My throat strained in an effort not to swallow as I tried my best to brazen it out. The last thing I needed was to tip him off to the fear induced saliva pooling in my mouth.

"_Hey, McCarty! Don't beat up the kid too bad. Dude's got a wicked sense of humor on him,"_ one of the faceless inmates cackled.

McCarty lowered his shaven head and growled, his dark eyes burning into mine.

"Shut the fuck up!" he boomed, glancing away, and there was instant silence beyond the wall.

His glare swiveled back to me. I flexed my jaw and sucked in a deep breath through my nose. There was no way I could back down even though it was obvious I was going to get pulverized. My only hope was if one of the other inmates showed a grain of mercy and called for a guard before I ended up in the prison infirmary.

"Funny guy, huh?"

He swiftly raised his arm and rubbed his chunky fingers across his stubbly chin. I forced myself not to flinch at the sudden movement. It was a test to see what I was made of. Would I would crack, fall to my knees cowering, or beg for mercy?

He nodded sagely. "I can understand that. I enjoy a good laugh just as much as the next guy."

The tension started to ebb from my shoulders. Okay, maybe he was just yanking my chain. We'd probably both have a good laugh about this tomorrow.

"Then again, I do have a reputation to maintain. I can't be seen to just let things slide, if you catch my drift."

Without warning, his sledgehammer fist connected with my temple. Blinding pain radiated through my face before I dropped to the floor and the world went dark.

My head was swimming and I had no idea where I was. I tried to pry my eyes open but winced against the light. My left eye didn't seem to want to cooperate. I groaned and rubbed my palm over my hair as the blurry surroundings began to snap back into focus and misery descended.

I was in bed...no, on a bunk. The top one, judging by the proximity of the ceiling. Gingerly touching my fingertips to my cheek, I prodded around my eye socket. Shit, that hurt but it didn't feel swollen enough to be broken so, most likely, it was just a black eye. My heart sank to my sneakers as I realized I couldn't even remember how I got up here. All I knew was my cellmate had no sense of humor and I didn't know where any of my stuff was. Stolen and shared out between him and his loud-mouthed cronies, no doubt.

I couldn't care less about the toothbrush, or the clean underwear, for that matter, since there was no reason to impress anyone in here. Completely the opposite, in fact. Growing a beard, even a patchy one, and going unwashed, might just have the added benefit of keeping potentially unwanted admirers at bay.

But I did care about the photograph.

Next to the Harley, it was my most precious possession. The only picture I had of _him_. Most of the time, he'd been the one behind the camera making sure the moment was captured forever; too busy making memories for the rest of us to stop and think he might not be around to look back on them with us. My father, Carlisle Cullen. The man who raised me, shaped me and made sure I knew how to ride his vintage Harley Davidson before he died.

I took a deep breath and stared at the lumpy plaster of the ceiling, trying to force back the tears prickling my eyes.

Like him, that photo was absolutely irreplaceable.

That Neanderthal, McCartney, McCarthy, or whatever the fuck his name was, had no idea how much that simple family snapshot meant to me and I didn't think I could bear to tell him. It would be like offering up my soft underbelly for him to kick. Gut instinct told me this was not the place to show any kind of vulnerability or sentiment. I turned over on the narrow bunk to face the sickly green painted wall and thought of my father. The bed springs creaked under my weight and I heard a movement beneath me.

Great…he was coming back for round two.

"You awake, kid?"

His voice was low, almost a whisper, and close to my ear. At his height, he didn't need to step onto the ladder to reach me.

It was my turn to ignore him. The masochistic rebel in me wanted to call him Alice again, just to poke the damn tiger, but I managed to contain myself.

"Here," he said, then moved away.

I raised my head to look back over my shoulder and there was my mom and dad and my sister, Rose, all grinning wildly next to me in the sunshine. I carefully picked up the image and fingered the bent over corner.

"Um, thanks," I mumbled. He'd already disappeared, the springs creaking as he sank back onto his bunk.

"No problem," the voice rumbled. "She's a real pretty girl."

I glanced at Rose, her head resting on my shoulder, seeing her for the first time through a stranger's eyes. She wasn't pretty; she was stunning. Willowy and graceful, like a ballet dancer, with long blonde hair and clear blue eyes, her celluloid grin wide and bright. It had been so long since she'd felt the urge to smile and that was the thing I missed most about her. A pang of sadness stabbed me in the chest and I said a silent prayer she'd somehow find a way to be happy again one day.

"Yeah, she is."

There was a beat of silence and I drew a finger over "happy" Rose's image before shifting my gaze to my father, his arms wrapped loosely around my mother's shoulders as she gazed up at him. We all looked too happy, like actors posing on a film set. A fake family, made up of specially selected, beautiful people. I couldn't bear to look at it any longer…not tonight. The emotions it evoked were still too raw. I tucked it under my pillow and lay with an arm slung over my eyes, desperately trying to empty my mind before the lights went out.

I don't care how tough you think you are; the first night in prison is terrifying.

The electric cell door bolts swung across, locking us in and the lights dimmed. It wasn't quite dark enough to conceal the truth of our surroundings, allowing me to pretend I was back home lying in my own bed instead of this barely adequate facility mattress in a cement lined box. Odd, disembodied voices floated through the gloom, calling out before rough authority bellowed for them to can it.

This is the time where loneliness and regret stalks you, the ghosts of misdemeanors past. It's the time when you are reduced to your component parts. If you're lucky, you'll find sleep quickly, freeing your mind to roam far beyond the bars and without the mandatory orange jumpsuit. Otherwise, it's a long night of guilt and aching remorse dancing around your brain, taunting you with _if onlys_ and _what could have beens_.

For me, it was the grinning face of my best friend, Jasper Hale. I pictured him leaning casually against the flat bed of his truck, feet crossed at the ankles with the brim of his cream colored Stetson pulled low as if shielding him from an angry, Texas sun. Even in high summer, Forks could never give him the fierce heat his southern soul craved.

In my memories, he was waiting for Alice to swing by, ready to give her a ride to wherever the hell she needed to go. She was his girl and damn near as crazy about him as a girl could get. Jasper had been my best friend since kindergarten and there was no way I was going to let a girl who only wanted the use of his truck lead him around by the nose so I'd put some time into studying her reactions. As it turned out, I didn't need to worry…it was all right there in her eyes. That flash of excitement whenever he walked in the room, the way she would steal glances at him when she thought no one else was watching, and the way they lit up as he whispered sweet promises in her ear. Yeah, there was no doubt about it. She was his girl, through and through.

It made my heart ache. No one had ever looked at me with that depth of devotion and, now that I'd screwed up my whole life, I doubted anyone ever would. I was here for years, rotting on the inside, while my outside hardened. I didn't know how much hurt I would have to take or inflict to survive my time in this place but I knew everything would leave a mark. Some would be visible, some deeply hidden; a combination of heavy scar tissue and denial to seal away this young boy's innocence forever.

_It was dark and the streetlight in front of Royce's parent's house was about to give up the ghost. It fizzed and crackled and, with its final death throes, cast a golden light across the wet asphalt that waxed and waned. By choosing to stand to the side, I avoided being painted by its glow, preferring instead to be cloaked in charcoal shadows. _

_From this vantage point, I could see into the living room. There he was, sprawled out like an idle king on a leather recliner while the football highlights played on the big flatscreen. He held a cold one in his hand and looked relaxed, unruffled, like it could have been any other night. _

_Fucking sadistic bastard. _

_That was the night everything changed. I felt the rage building into a white hot, seething animal, coiling around my guts like a python, squeezing me in a pulsing, constricting pressure, softening me up before it chose to swallow me whole. The more he raised the can to his lips, or grinned at the screen, the more my anger intensified its grip. _

_I wanted to scream, to throw back my head and howl until my lungs ached and my throat grew raw, to call him out into the street with a tribal war cry, but I couldn't move. I was pinned to the ground with feet of lead. Through narrowed eyes, I watched as he wiped a rogue dribble of beer from his chin with the back of his hand and winced at the tenderness of his knuckles. _

_That did it. _

_In an instant, I was shocked into mobility again, my legs moving, taking me closer to the property line. My hand slid into my pocket to retrieve a small cell phone, its glitzy case shimmering pink in the moonlight._

"_**Royce, come to me."**_

_That was all it took. I saw his jaw flex as he read the text, believing it came from her. A moment's hesitation while he raked his fingers through his hair before he was on his feet and storming through the house, car keys in hand. _

_My heart was thundering in my chest, breath coming in short gasps as I hid among the bushes, waiting for him to emerge into the chill night air. _

_It didn't take long. He jogged down the wooden porch steps and cut across the lawn to the spot where he'd abandoned his car. _

_I let him get within a foot of his goal before I struck, coming up fast from behind and throwing my jacket over his head to startle him. _

_He tried to fight back. I wouldn't expect anything less from such an aggressive asshole but I had the element of surprise and a seemingly bottomless well of rage and hatred to fuel my fury. He never stood a chance._

_I attacked him on autopilot, a frenzy of fists and feet as I rained down a volley of unending, bone crunching punches and kicks, each one harder than the last. Eventually, he stopped trying to lash out and pulled himself into a fetal position, his hands seeking to protect his head. I was out of control, flashes of her face, the bruises, the blood, dancing through my mind. I was doing this for her, delivering the vengeance and justice she couldn't. _

_He fell to the ground, whimpering as my grunts became louder, an outlet for the pain as my knuckles split open. But I still wouldn't stop. He had to pay. I needed him to suffer like she had, to feel the pain and humiliation she felt. I was only sorry we were on his parent's soft, manicured lawn and not in some grubby, back alley with hard, wet asphalt under his back. _

_There was blood…so much. It was everywhere; on my hands, more of it on him. I didn't know whose it was and I didn't care. He had to pay for what he'd done. _

_My knuckles were so busted up I couldn't form a fist anymore so I relied on my feet. His body had long since gone limp. It was like kicking against a rolled up carpet. I knew he was unconscious and that it was time to pull away but I couldn't stop...couldn't or wouldn't. I wasn't sure any more. _

_Royce's body sagged over onto its back, one arm flopping to the side and I saw his face. Only it wasn't his face…it was mine. Glassy, green eyes stared up at the sky without focus. The skin was bloodied and swollen but it was definitely my lantern jaw that hung slack, shaping my mouth into a silent cry for help. _

_I screamed in fear and pain. Staggering back from the abomination at my feet, my eyes slid shut._

Strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook me roughly. I blinked my eyes open and found myself lying on a strange mattress, sweat-soaked and disorientated, staring through the gloom into the concerned eyes of McCarty.

"Jesus, man! That was some nightmare," he whispered and I wondered why he bothered keeping his voice down when I'd been making enough noise to wake the dead. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah. I...yeah," I croaked, my throat feeling tender, like it had been sandblasted. I must have been doing some serious screaming. "It was a dream."

"Well, shit. You keep having dreams like that, the next eight years are gonna feel like a fuckin' life sentence."

A life sentence! It all crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave. What the hell had I done? Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I don't know where I thought I could go but I needed to get away. Gasping for air, I fought against my cellmate's grip and the contents of my stomach rolled over, making me retch.

"Oh, no you don't!" he yelled, snatching me clean off my bunk and dumping me next to the cold steel of the toilet as if I weighed less than a limp rag doll.

I gripped the sides of the bowl, my knuckles turning white as I gave up trying to contain my panic and let my body get on with purging itself.

"Listen, mamma's boy. This better not be a regular thing. Place smells badafuckin'nough without you puking every five minutes."

My throat was on fire and my sides ached. I felt like curling up in the corner and crying but something inside didn't want me giving McCarty the pleasure of seeing me crack; not this soon, anyway. Drawing in a deep, calming breath, I dragged myself to my feet, rinsed my mouth out and crawled back up to my bunk.

He scratched the back of his neck as he watched me pass before muttering something under his breath and shuffling back onto his own mattress.

With aching guts, I turned on my side and stared at the lumpy concrete wall, willing away the still clear image of myself lying battered and broken on the dew-soaked grass. My fingers crept under the pillow to find some comfort at touching the edge of my family's photograph.

**A/N Don't know if y'all have heard the Roy "Chubby" Brown version of Living Next Door to Alice, but if you have you'll have got the joke. **

**Thoughts...**

**Claire x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or the original characters, this is written for fun, no copy-rite infringement is intended. **

**Thanks to Rita01TX for the edits, Keye for the pre read, Claudia for the banner and EeWee and Bevey99 for the prod to write it. **

**Can I remind everyone this is a work of fiction and since I've never spent time in prison on either side of the Atlantic I have relied heavily on Google (who only seems to want to give me UK prison info), documentaries and ex-prisoner testimony to make this seem authentic, please cut me some slack if I've got anything wrong. **

Chapter 5

The sound of Mcwhatshisname pissing against stainless steel woke me up and the gravity of where I'd spent the night…where I'd be spending the next 3000 nights, crashed over me again in a wave of crippling self-pity. Wincing at the tenderness where my gorilla of a cell mate had slugged me, I automatically pressed my fingertips lightly to my face. I hadn't had a chance to see the damage yet but it would definitely be bruised and swollen. Perfect! My first real day in here and I already looked like I could be anyone's punching bag. Hell, he might as well have painted a target on my back while I'd slept.

Groaning, I swung my legs over the edge of the bunk, watching in silence as he shaved with a plastic safety razor. The slim, blue handle looked too tiny for his meaty fingers, like he was using a toy. A small, pockmarked mirror hung over the sink, no more than six inches across, and, as he rinsed the soap from the blade, his reflected gaze met mine.

"You okay this morning, kid?"

Fucking kid! What the hell? I'd be turning nineteen in a few weeks and he couldn't have been more than twenty-four himself. Ignoring him, I rolled back onto the mattress, the springs protesting under my weight, but he wasn't going to let me get away with that.

"Listen! You and me are gonna be spending a lot of time inside this cement box and, if you're the type to carry a grudge, it'll feel like a twenty stretch for the both of us."

"Well, maybe you should've thought of that before you got so damn handy with your fist," I muttered, picking at the uneven texture in the cell wall with my thumbnail.

I didn't look around but heard the swishing of his jumpsuit legs just before a hand grasped my shoulder hard and pulled me backwards, pressing me flat to the mattress. His face hovered a few inches above mine and he looked pissed, the thunderous expression making him look even more threatening than usual.

"You can't go around calling dudes Alice and expect to get away with it."

I studied him critically. An almost shaven head showing just a hint of his natural black hair, a heavy jawline that already seemed to have a dark shadow despite the fact he'd only put his razor down moments ago, muscular cords in a thick neck leading to huge shoulders, said shoulders being marked with snaking coils of dark ink. If he wore a beard and white sailor's cap, he might be a dead ringer for Bluto, the big dude from the Popeye cartoons. There was nothing remotely feminine about the guy and, although it wasn't the smartest thing for someone in my position to do, I started to giggle.

Perplexed, he looked at me while I clutched my sides and belly laughed. I must've had some kind of death wish to snort in his face like that but, after months of stress and fear hanging over my head, it was an outlet for all the tension. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled to hold it together.

"What's so fuckin' funny? You think I look like an Alice?" he yelled, his features darkening as they drew together.

He was completely mystified by my apparent breakdown...and it was the funniest thing I'd seen in what felt like years as I erupted into a second wave of hysterics.

"No, you're way more exotic than that," I panted breathlessly before being sucked under by another fit of giggles. "You're more of a...Ca…Carmen."

"Carmen?" he repeated incredulously, casting a glance at himself in the mirror and rubbing his hand over his crew cut. "I think a Carmen would definitely have longer hair."

"And maybe fewer tattoos," I squeaked, dissolving into a fit of laughter once more.

His lips lifted slightly and he shook his head, snorting before showing the flats of his palms and disappearing into his bunk.

It took a few more minutes for the humor to subside enough for me to could climb down and start cleaning up. Every so often, I would picture him in a slinky evening dress, his face painted in gaudy make-up, wobbling on six inch stilettos, and snicker to myself, a direct result of the comedy of the image mixed up with a little euphoria because he hadn't pulverized me for having a smart mouth.

"So, why'd you choose Alice? Is it your girlfriend's name?" His deep voice floated up from the shadows of his bed.

"No. She was my best friend's girl." My voice trailed off as I thought about her and it was almost painful to do so. It wasn't so much a clear image of her face but more an impression of her energy. Dark eyes flashing, wide white smile. She was a force of nature, a free spirit. So unlike those of us pushed together in here, living like rats in a trap.

"What'd _she_ say when you got sent down? She gonna stand by you?"

I frowned, "Alice? Why would she care?"

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "No, I meant your girl."

I paused, pursing my lips, wondering if I was making a mistake in telling the truth, before finally admitting, "I don't have a girl."

"So, who was she? The girl in the picture?"

I carefully folded my towel and laid it down, my good mood totally obliterated. He meant Rose, my beautiful, yet perfectly imperfect sister whose pride had bound us together with an invisible cord of secrets and lies. No one but us knew the truth. No one ever could and, because of that, we would both be forever changed.

I could see how he would get the wrong idea. Her coloring was so different from mine, her features finer, and the way she was draped over me with my hand on her arm made us look like more than siblings. It was an easy mistake to make.

I vacillated over my choice…should I give him her name? For the moment, she was still an anonymous face and that gave me strength. Telling him felt like I was giving up a piece of me and I wondered if it was something he would use against me later. I decided to skirt around it.

"She's my sister." I turned away, determined to say no more. I heard him suck in a deep breath and steeled myself for his next question but none came. Eventually, my muscles relaxed and I rinsed off my razor and dried it on the towel before putting it with Emmett's, ready for when the guards came by to collect them.

"My name's Emmett but you'd better stick with McCarty."

My eyebrows shot up as I realized he was holding out an olive branch. I'd have to be a fool to ignore his offer when we were going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future.

"I'm Edward...Cullen."

"Yeah, I know," he said, swinging smoothly from under his bunk in time for the bolts on the door to click open. Glancing back at me with a theatrical waggle of his thick brows, he added, "Showtime."

After morning roll call and a three minute communal shower, the population shambled towards the cafeteria for breakfast like a scene from The Walking Dead. Dozens of men in various states of scruffiness and beard growth shuffled in vague lines toward stacks of plastic trays.

The early birds were already supplied with food, occupying most of the longer tables, segregating themselves by age or ethnic group, some with head scarves or matching tattoos. Everyone seemed to be watching everyone else, all united with a common air of mistrust. The word "gangs" popped into my head and I squashed it back down. I wasn't in anyone's gang and it terrified me to think I might be unwittingly attracting the wrong attention.

A few guys squinted as I walked by, intrigued by the black eye, but I bluffed my way past, holding their gaze and dipping my head in what I hoped would pass for a bad ass, fuck off vibe. Right now, I had no idea who I could trust and who posed a threat. McCarty was the closest thing I had to a friend but even he'd had no qualms punching my lights out. I glanced behind just to check if my six-foot-five security blanket was anywhere handy but he ignored me, choosing to swagger alongside a weedy looking guy with lank, blond hair. The contrast in their sizes was almost comical but I guessed hanging with such a wimp made McCarty look meaner by contrast.

I took my cue from the other guys, holding out the yellow plastic tray for a sloppy portion of oaty sludge and a piece of banana. My heart sank. This was just the kind of thing I'd been dreading. Catering for all ages and in vast numbers made soft, easily chewable food a safe option for the prison kitchen staff. Thinking about the four or five different varieties of sweet, crunchy cereal stocked in my mom's kitchen cabinets made my eyes prickle. She'd dissolved into tears when my sentence was handed down, screaming at the judge that there must have been some mistake, refusing to accept her darling son had a cruel bone in his body. She would be inconsolable if she saw me here, lost amid this alien, grey jungle of testosterone and mistrust.

Having no friends inside these four walls and no idea whose company was best avoided, I chose to sit at an empty table. I played half-heartedly with my oatmeal, picking up a spoonful and letting it drop back into the gloopy dollop still on the tray. Eventually, I risked a mouthful, surprised it actually tasted better than it looked…not that it would ever be something I'd crave, but not as bland as I was expecting.

"Hello there, new boy."

A middle-aged guy with bloodshot eyes and thick, slick-backed dark hair slid into a chair alongside mine. He wasn't carrying a tray; just an air of confidence. At the table behind him, I saw McCarty stiffen, his eyes narrowing as he watched our exchange.

I didn't answer, just flicked my eyes to his. I might be young but I knew being too open would leave me exposed to any wolves in this place. His eyes roamed over me and I didn't know if he was weighing up my reactions or whether he was attracted to me. I hoped to hell it was the former because I had enough on my plate without having to fight off any would be admirers.

He grinned a wide, fake barracuda smile.

"I'm Aro and, if you need anything…anything at all, you make sure you come see me."

"Thanks," I replied simply. Gut instinct told me not to trust this guy and I hoped, by being just civil enough, he'd leave me alone to play with my food.

"Hmm," he simpered, sliding a clammy, doughy-fingered hand across the table and patting mine, which automatically balled into a fist, "You're _very_ welcome."

He swaggered away and I suppressed a sudden need to rush off and wash my hands. Ugh! I could still feel where he'd touched me. I suppose, if you were the man who had the connections to supply people's demands, it made good business sense to stake your claim on any potential new clients as soon as they crossed your radar. Still, I couldn't shake the idea this must've been how women felt to be hit on by some sleezoid in a club.

The rest of the day passed without much incident. I was still finding my way around the place, trying to fall in line with everyone else's loose routines. I did some jogging around the exercise yard where McCarty was bench pressing a ton of weights before volunteering for some rehabilitation training courses in the prison workshop. My Harley would be hidden under a tarpaulin for years and, no doubt, it would be all seized up by the time I got out. With that scenario in mind, I'd be grateful for any knowledge I could soak up to help me get her back in tip top condition when I'd eventually get my hands on her again. Also, having had my education cut short and gaining a prison record would whittle down my employment prospects. I could only hope that possessing some useful manual skills and experience might give me a shot at a decent job when I eventually made it out of this concrete jungle.

In the afternoon, I actually found time to watch a little TV in the common room. No one else seemed to see the irony of a group of prisoners glued to the screen watching reruns of Judge Judy. It turned out not to have been a total waste of time, though. I started talking with a guy named Alec who seemed easy going enough…a regular comedian, half way through a three year stretch for stealing cars. As a habitual thief who couldn't resist the siren song of a luxury vehicle, this was his third time inside.

In my former life, I would've given a guy like him a wide berth but, since I no longer had anything worth stealing, I decided it might not be a bad thing to have an expert on prison etiquette in my corner.

That evening, McCarty was waiting in our cell when I got there. Perched on the edge of the bunk, rubbing his shoulder over the spot where dark lines of ink swirled, his eyes followed me as I walked past, his features arranged into a look of concern.

"Hey," I said, choosing to sit on the small chair in the corner.

"What did Volturi say to you this morning?"

I frowned. "Who?"

"Creepy guy, black greasy hair."

"Oh, em...Aro? Nothing, really. He just said if I needed anything I should ask him."

McCarty nodded. "Be careful. He's linked to some powerful Mafia family. He can get anything you need…smokes, booze, drugs. Fuck, he'd probably find a way to get pussy in here, if the price was right. But, if you miss a payment, he'll own your ass for the rest of your stay and beyond."

It was a sobering thought and a reminder of how out of my depth I was. Just because I'd had some yucks with Alec today didn't make this place any safer. I suddenly felt grateful for coming in here with no real vices or habits. "Yeah, thanks…I'll be careful."

"How'd your first day go?" He stretched back on his mattress, arms behind his head, wriggling and squeaking the springs until he got comfortable.

I shrugged. What could I say that he didn't already know himself? This place sucked green monkey balls. Today, and every day from now on, would be filled with long, stretching hours of boredom, dubious characters, and bland food. There was nowhere to go, no girls, no fun…all under the constant scrutiny of a team of the most miserable guards imaginable.

I was still undecided about McCarty's character but he seemed to be open to making conversation so I pushed my luck a little,

"What're you in here for?"

He was quiet and I wondered if I'd earn a smack in the mouth for asking. I was starting to feel awkward, wishing I could take back the words, when he answered.

"Bank job."

I nodded, not needing him to say any more, but he must've felt I deserved a better explanation.

"I was just a kid, not much older than you. The guard drew his gun and my cousin shot him dead."

"I beat up a guy." I don't know why I felt the need to confess; it just felt fair to reciprocate since he'd revealed something of himself to me.

"You got eight years for that? And it was a first offense? Fuck, dude! Your lawyer screwed you over."

"Nah." It was my turn to feel uncomfortable. "I wouldn't stop hitting him. Left the guy with permanent brain damage. Now he needs care twenty-four seven."

"Fuuuuck," he drawled out. "I didn't know I was taking such a risk when I punched you."

A big grin spread across his face causing deep dimples to pop at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck off," I replied, my lips lifting on one side.

He slapped his hands on each side of his face, mouth open in a look of mock shock.

"Please don't hurt me, Mr. Cullen," he begged in a high pitched, squealing voice. "I'll be a good girl from now on, I promise."

"You can forget being Carmen," I chuckled. "That voice was definitely more Alice."

He erupted into raucous laughter so infectious it caused me to snort out a laugh, too. We made small talk for a while; nothing major…where we were from, who was waiting for us on the outside, what we were missing and it was strange but, the more we talked, the more I decided he was an okay guy. By the time I crawled into my bunk for lights out, I was starting to feel lucky I'd been assigned this cell and a little of the tension lifted from my shoulders.

Over the next few days, I continued moving along this upward learning curve and actually started to relax a little more, finding a certain comfort in the routine. McCarty gave me the skinny on the various groups and individuals, and how to avoid finding myself on their radar, while Alec kept me entertained with jokes. I started doing some shifts in the workshop, learning all about how to operate the machinery, and found, to my surprise, I actually had a flair for tinkering.

After so many months of treading water while I waited for my trial, it was something positive for me to focus on and I even started to think maybe I could manage this sentence after all.

I should have guessed life in here would never be as simple as that.

**A/N Thoughts? **

**See you next week.**

**Claire x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer-I don't own the original characters, this is written for fun, no copy rite infringement is intended. **

**Special thanks to Rita01TX for applying the polish (and the post on RobAttack that inspired this), Keye for the prereads, Claudia for the banner and EeWee and Bevey99 for giving me the prod to write it.**

****WARNING** This chapter deals with physical assault, if that's a trigger for you, proceed with caution or skip. **

**Anyone ready for some more Behindbarsward?**

Chapter 6

"Watermelons! Really?" I gaped at Alec who was regaling me with tales of his latest girlfriend while chewing around a mouthful of cornflakes.

"Swear to God."

"Shiiit, that must've been a sight." I was still sticking with the gooey oatmeal, the flavor having grown on me over the weeks. I'd tried the cornflakes but they tasted too much like cardboard so I'd gone back to what was familiar.

"Yep," he said, glancing around, "See that guy over there…the one with the bald head?"

I tried to be discrete as my eyes followed the direction his head had tipped. In the far corner of the cafeteria, a heavy-set inmate had his back to us, his smooth head shining under the harsh, overhead fluorescent lights.

"Uh huh."

"Well, it was like two of his heads, side-by-side...except with nipples on them."

"Fuck, that's a big pair of tits but you know what they say…anything more than a handful's a waste." We both dissolved into gales of laughter so loud a few of the guys on the surrounding tables turned and frowned.

"So, will she be here on visitor's day?" I asked, "'Cause I can't guarantee I won't stare."

His smile melted away as his features became serious.

"Nah, she sent me a Dear John telling me she was done."

"Aw, hell, man! I'm sorry, I...I don't know what to say. That's really harsh."

He shrugged and ducked his head, drawing his spoon through the milky liquid in the bottom of his bowl. "Well, she always said, if I was sent down again, that was it. Prison's a sentence for us but we've got routine and company to keep us going. It's harder for them, stuck outside, alone and waiting. We aren't the only ones paying the price for our crimes."

I thought of my mother and pictured her softly smiling face. Then I remembered the way she looked the night of the attack, when she'd come with Rose to see me in the police cell at Forks. A look of bewilderment and pain had glazed her green eyes while Rose was completely shut down by shock and confusion. I deliberately hadn't looked at them when my sentence was delivered, not wanting to carry the memory of their disappointment and agony with me to my cell. Alec was right, though. I hadn't given any consideration as to how they might be managing while I was away doing my time. Suddenly, I had mixed feelings about this week's visit.

"Have you noticed that black guy with the missing fingers three tables back?" Alec didn't look up.

I glanced around and quickly spotted the one he meant. What I saw was a powerful looking man with thick dreadlocks tied at the back of his head in a ponytail. As he raised his spoon to his lips, I spotted the two fingers missing from his left hand. He felt my eyes on him and grinned, a gold tooth glinting in the corner of his mouth. I gave a slight nod before looking away.

"Yeah, I see him." I played with the sludge on my plate, spreading it around the edge of the bowl.

"Well, watch out. His name's Laurent and word's out he's got his eye on you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alec looked me square in the eye. "He's a nasty piece of work with a taste for new guys."

"Okay, but what's that supposed to mean?" I repeated, my mind whirling.

He glanced over at Laurent before focusing back on his bowl. "Listen, I shouldn't have said anything. Ask McCarty…he'll fill you in."

I didn't know what to say. It was almost as if Alec was frightened to say anything more.

"So, anyway," he said, immediately brightening. "A young stud like you must have some stories to tell. What's the best you ever had?"

What could I say? Admit I was a virgin and become the laughingstock of the prison system? Rose's best friend, Tanya, had been drunk when she let me feel her up after a New Year's Eve party when I was sixteen but I didn't think it would be enough to impress Alec after all the porn star stories he'd just been feeding me.

After chugging a couple of beers I'd snuck off with, I decided to take a walk in the woods to clear my fuzzy head. Tanya was four years older than me and I didn't know she was already there, sitting in the woodshed, huddled in her thick wool coat. I blundered in, catching her by surprise, and mumbled an apology. I was turning to leave when I noticed she'd been crying. Between sniffles, she told me her boyfriend had dumped her and I'd said something cheesy like he must be crazy and the next thing I knew, her lips were ravaging mine and my shaking palms were snaking under her sweater to cop their first feel of real boob. I almost lost it when I realized she wasn't wearing a bra, marveling at the way she shivered and how her nipples tightened as my chilled hands clumsily explored previously forbidden territory.

Slowed down as she was by alcohol, it took a while for the switch in her head to finally click. But, once she realized she was drunkenly mauling her best friend's baby brother, she pushed me away and rushed back to the house, leaving me in a state of open mouthed wonderment and with a raging hard on in my pants. I stumbled out of the shed, barely making it three steps to the nearest tree before I was forced to unzip my jeans, take myself in hand and jerk off. Panting and groaning, I frantically stroked my blood engorged cock, palming the head on the odd upstroke…it felt so fucking good. It wasn't long before my legs and spine stiffened and I released onto the ground, sighing with relief I'd actually be able to walk again.

Although we never spoke about what had happened that night, it was awkward between us for a while and I guessed she never told Rose because I'm sure she would've had something to say to me about taking advantage of her precious friend.

Not long after "the incident" with Tanya, Dad got sick. Carlisle Cullen fought his cancer for almost twelve months before finally succumbing. The reality I might actually be losing my father was probably the only thing that could have kept my focus away from girls. Somehow, it just didn't feel right to be out flirting and having a good time while he was suffering. Then, once he'd gone, Mom needed me more than I needed to pursue girls.

"Well, come on, Ed. Don't make me beg...spill!" Alec's expectant eyes flashed hopefully.

"You know what, Alec? A gentleman never tells," I smirked, scraping my chair back and snatching up my tray.

"Fuck you, Cullen!" he snorted, quickly clearing his own dishes before fumbling in his pocket for his pack of smokes and following me outside.

There were some truly frightening characters in a place like this, Aro Volturi being one of them, and now there was an added, unknown threat from this Laurent guy. However, my biggest enemy by far was time. I'd be stuck in this place for eight years: 2920 days, 70,080 hours, and over four million minutes. My days might be structured around a loose routine but I found myself spending a huge part of the day with one eye on the clock, way more than I ever did on the outside. From the early morning roll call, right through until the ridiculously early lights out, my eyes were drawn to it over and over. Sometimes I wished I had superpowers to make the hands spin fast enough to speed away my sentence and, at other times, I just wished the damn thing wasn't even visible. After all, ignorance is bliss.

Finishing with my afternoon shift in the workshop, I was pleased with the progress I was making. At this rate, I would have some genuinely useful diplomas when I left; something that might actually help get my Harley back on the road and maybe even a decent job as a mechanic. It wasn't what I'd always dreamed of for myself. My high school grades had been excellent and I'd seriously considered perusing a career in medicine; however, working in a garage was a solid choice for an ex-con and maybe I could study at night for some higher qualifications, once I got settled.

McCarty was already in our cell when I strolled in. We were getting along...well, the times we were locked in together, at any rate. Outside, in the general population, he kind of left me to my own devices but I got the feeling he was keeping a watchful eye on me, like some kind of plumped up mother hen with her chick. It made me wonder whether he saw something in me that reminded him of himself at my age.

"Hey, kiddo. Good day?"

I ground my teeth. Two weeks in and he was still calling me kid. "Yeah," I answered, trying not to sound pissed. He was on his bunk so I chose the chair; it was fast becoming my regular spot. "You?"

"Same shit, different day," he grunted, leaning back against his mattress with his fingers linked behind his head. "Got some new equipment in the exercise yard. Made my morning. Hey, you could do with joining us on the benches…bulk up those weedy little arms of yours."

"Fuck you! My arms aren't weedy!" I exclaimed and he chuckled, pleased to get the response he'd been fishing for.

"Nope, they're just fine, Kermit," he snorted.

I shook my head and half-heartedly flicked through the pages of the motorcycle magazine left out on the small desk, my eyes admiring the half-naked, busty models as much as the shiny beasts. Rose had set me up with a monthly subscription. I'm sure she thought it was something I'd enjoy, keeping up to date with the latest biker news, but it only reminded me of how trapped I was.

Frustrated, I shoved it away.

"What's the story with that Laurent guy?"

Instantly, McCarty was upright, his face scarily grim.

"Why? Has he said something to you?"

"No, no..." _Shit, _he looked pissed. I didn't want to get Alec in trouble so I deliberately left him out of it. "I just...I saw him staring at me." _Fuck_, that sounded lame even to my ears. The big scary man had looked at me and flashed his gold tooth and now I'm wetting my panties. "It was probably nothing."

"Fuck, I missed it," he mumbled, chewing on the side of his bottom lip.

"Is it that bad?"

"Yeah, it's bad. Listen…whatever you do, keep him at a distance. That guy's a predator. He likes to pick out the new guys, especially the pretty ones." McCarty's eyes flicked to my face and I had the urge to say _I might be pretty, but I'm no Alice,_ but the look of trepidation on his face held my tongue.

"Pick us out for what?"

McCarty rolled his eyes like he couldn't believe how dumb I was.

"For sex."

I almost swallowed my tongue and how my eyeballs stayed in my head with my eyes stretched so wide, I'll never know.

"But, I'm not gay!" I yelled, setting off a round of wolf whistles and cat calls from the neighboring cells.

"Quiet!" McCarty bellowed and there was instant silence. Even though I was freaking out, I couldn't help but marvel at the way he commanded respect from everyone in there. Boy, was I glad I'd kept the Alice zinger to myself.

"Look, kid. It won't matter to him if you're gay or not. It'll matter even less if you're willing or not. If you don't wanna give, it just adds to his fun. He and his friend, James, will enjoy holding you down and taking."

I squirmed on the chair, suddenly terrified. I hadn't even had sex with a girl and now I was attracting the attention of two full-grown men. I didn't even know what this James guy looked like. How the hell could I avoid them in this place? I was a sitting duck. A tidal wave of panic swelled in my gut, making me feel queasy.

"But, how can they get away with it?"

He shrugged. "Fear. Most guys are too scared to say anything."

"How do you know all this?"

He leaned in, closing the gap between us, nodding for me to lean in, too.

"Because I was the new guy, once," he replied, his voice barely audible.

"Fuuuuuck," I whispered. "So you were..."

"Shit, no!" he spat disgustedly, springing backwards. "I was the one that got away."

"How?" If I was being sucked into the vortex of a nightmare, I needed as much information as I could get.

McCarty snorted and lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers.

"Who do you think took his fingers? And he knows if he tries it again, I'm taking his dick."

"Oh," I said, too stunned to form a full sentence. I didn't even ask what he'd used to sever the man's digits…a pen knife, razor blade, or maybe his teeth. I didn't want to think about it but I was starting to understand why Emmett was so respected. He took no shit from anyone.

That night was another restless one. I lay on the top bunk, flip-flopping between panic and feeling sorry for myself, disgusted by the shroud of secrecy and fear in this place that meant a rapist could openly stalk his victims.

Staring wide-eyed at the shadows creeping across the ceiling, I tried not to make a sound, not when I caught the soft gruntings of Emmett jacking off below me, not even as the brutal images of Rose flitted through my brain.

I'd been the one she'd called, the one who'd found her.

A quaking voice over the phone begged for me to come and get her. Except for her location, she wouldn't explain what had happened but, instinctively, I knew it was bad. I broke the speed limit to get to her and, even though I was fifteen minutes away, I made it to the mouth of the dark alley in ten, yanking the bike up onto its kickstand before striding off calling her name.

She didn't answer with a shout, more of a whimper that raised the hairs all over my body.

Maneuvering cautiously further down the dank passage, my eyes struggled to adjust to the lack of light. I passed a bundle of rags and a foul, stinking dumpster as I crept onwards. _Shit!_ What the hell was she even doing in a place like this? It must be crawling with rats. I fished in my pocket for my cell to use as a flashlight.

"Eddie," she whispered, her voice cracking, and I almost heaved as I realized it came from behind me. The truth crashed over me like a bucket of ice water. _She_ was the shapeless pile of clothing.

There, propped against the filthy, rusting metal was Rose…my wonderful big sister, the girl who was always so meticulous and pristine, the only person who knew exactly how to comfort me when I crumbled under the weight of our father's illness. The one everyone described as poised and beautiful now sat huddled and broken on the wet asphalt, her arms wrapped around her knees. Battered and bruised, her face swollen and red from the tears she'd cried, she was almost unrecognizable.

"Rose?" I gasped, unable to believe my eyes.

"He hurt me, Eddie…he hurt me," she wailed.

My legs weren't working right as I turned and came a little closer. A small pool of white light illuminated the rips and dirt on her cream dress, as well as the smears of blood on her arms and legs. My knees buckled at the sight and I fell to the ground at her feet.

"Who did this to you? Tell me!" My eyes darted over her form, taking in the damage…scratches and angry red marks on her arms and exposed thighs. Theses would most likely turn into deep bruises over the next few days.

She hung her head, a river of tears still dripping off her chin.

"I begged him to stop but he wouldn't...he just wouldn't stop," she moaned.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. She needed me to be calm even though there was a swell of rage bubbling up inside me like a tsunami.

"Who did this, Rose?" My voice was more commanding this time but it was as if she couldn't hear me or maybe it was a defense mechanism. She was almost speaking on autopilot, like a malfunctioning robot.

"I said no. I didn't want to do it but he hit me and shoved me down. I said no, Eddie...I said no." She dissolved into hysterical sobs and my body went weak as I knew for certain she'd been raped.

"Please! You have to tell me who did this to you! Who was it, Rose?" I begged.

I still had no idea what she was doing here but she was in no fit state to be questioned, shaking and rocking back and forth, trying to comfort herself. I reached out a hand to touch her knee and she flinched.

"Rose, I'm going to call the police and get you to the hospital," I said, trying to dial the number on my cell with shaking fingers.

"No!" she more or less screamed, slapping the phone from my hand. It fell heavily to the ground, the back skittering away. I couldn't waste any energy on wondering if it was broken.

"What do you mean, 'no,' Rose? We have to call them. Whoever did this can't be allowed to get away with it."

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "I don't want anyone to know. I couldn't stand it…people looking at me, judging me. I don't want their pity. Eddie, promise me you won't say anything. Promise me, please."

I stared at her, battered and pleading for me to understand. Everyone knew my beautiful big sister. She was well thought of in town, even loved. I was often introduced as "Rosalie's little brother" and greeted with smiles, along with the obligatory, "she's such a lovely girl," comments. To a certain degree, I could understand her reluctance to tell the world. Forks was, after all, a tiny town and fresh gossip was a prized commodity. Stories of Rose's ordeal would circulate for years. There would be looks and raised eyebrows, exaggerated theories and homespun speculation. Would they say she deserved it? No doubt, some of them would rejoice at an excuse to knock her off the pedestal on which they themselves had put her.

But, what of him…her attacker? Should he be allowed to walk away unscathed, free to do the same thing to another poor, unsuspecting girl?

That wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

"Okay, I promise, but only if you tell me who did this to you," I insisted, shocked to find myself using emotional blackmail to get the bastard's name out of her but I was resolved on having it, one way or another.

She raised her eyes to mine and her lip quivered as I watched her deliberate whether or not to tell me.

"Royce...King," she whispered and it still made no sense.

Of course, I knew who he was. That is to say, I knew him by reputation. The Kings were big shots around town, coming from old money. His great grandfather had made a huge fortune back when logging was the primary source of business and employment in the whole area. People tended to treat Royce and his cousins like some kind of royalty, choosing to ignore their arrogance and erratic behavior. I'd heard rumors around school he was dealing drugs but I didn't know for sure since no one had ever offered anything to me.

Now, however, I had something to give him.

Retribution.

I helped Rose to her feet and supported her as she limped towards my bike. Her eyes darted from side to side, terrified of anyone seeing her like this.

First prying it from her frozen fingers, I held her purse while she struggled to hoist a leg over the saddle, wincing as she lowered herself to settle on the cold leather. She didn't notice me slip her glittery, pink cell phone into my pocket.

The Harley took us home but I don't remember the journey as my mind was reeling. I snuck her in through the back door and begged her to reconsider calling the police while I ran a warm bath for her. She wore a scoop necked, sleeveless sun dress and, in the brightly lit bathroom, I could see the map of bruises and marks on the visible parts of her pale skin. He'd been careful not to hit her face. The bastard made sure the evidence could be easily hidden.

I sat in the hallway while she bathed, my back pressed to the bathroom door. I listened to her crying while I scrolled through the texts on her cell, piecing together the story of their fledgling relationship.

After she was done, I helped her into bed and she made me promise once more not to tell. I sat by her bedside until she fell into a restless sleep and, when I was satisfied she wasn't going to wake any time soon, I crept back through the silent house to the front door and raced outside to fire up the Harley.

Royce might think he was somebody to whom the rules didn't apply but, as I accelerated, skimming the bike over miles of darkened road, driven by imagining what my late father would have said, I knew I would have to be the one to deliver her vengeance.

Royce King would always remember the day he messed with a Cullen.

**Until next week **

**Claire x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or the original characters, this is written for fun with no copy rite infringement intended. **

**Thanks as always to Rita01TX for the edit, Keye for the preread and Claudia for the banner. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, recommended, PM'd, followed or favorited. It makes me happy to know you're enjoying this ride.**

**BTW, since FicTease has closed its doors, I've decided to post weekly teasers on Fic Central (they post them on a Monday, so that fits nicely with my Tuesday posting here.) I did a trial run last week, then totally forgot to let everyone know, {facepalm.}  
**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 7

At the insistent sounds of another morning in Hell, I blinked awake and ran my hands through my hair. It was starting to get too long. I thought about asking Emmett to take a razor to it after he'd finished shaving…then again, no. I still didn't know how he'd removed Laurent's fingers and I was quite attached to my ears. Maybe I'd ask Alec, instead.

I puffed out a big breath. Considering I had the bedtime of an average ten-year-old, I felt wrecked but put it down to worrying about my own safety, mixed up with memories of Rose's attack.

"Well, well, well…the Kraken awakes!"

McCarty was already brushing his teeth, a battered clock radio playing tinny music in the background. We'd been cellmates for sixteen days and I had yet to be the first one to the sink.

"Fuck off," I muttered, yawning as I rolled onto my side the better to watch him.

"Aww, tired and a little grumpy are we, princess?" he crooned.

_Great_, a new nickname. As much as I hated being called a kid, this one was worse. It wouldn't pay to make a big deal out of it, though. He'd probably just get a kick out of using it every opportunity, if I did. I flipped him the bird and he chuckled.

"Seriously, dude. You need to do something about those nightmares."

_Fuck!_ I thought it had just been the one time...the night I'd arrived.

"Really? Shit, man, I'm sorry."

He turned back to the mirror, stretching his mouth and baring his teeth to check his handiwork.

"You gonna tell me what happened to Rose?"

_Double fuck!_ Had I been talking or, worse, shouting in my sleep? I'd been thinking about Rose before I fell asleep. My mind raced, trying to remember the dream but, frustratingly, I drew a blank. I decided to play dumb.

"What do you mean?"

His reflection raised an eyebrow at me.

"You, yelling her name over and over, wrestling with the sheets. I thought I was gonna have to climb up there and knock you out again."

That prospect put a grimace on my face, which he ignored.

"Seriously, I think I have a right to know why my sleep is being disturbed." He let the toothbrush plop into the sink, "So, spill it…what happened to Rose? Hang on a minute; you didn't do something to hurt her, did you?"

"No! She's my sister, you moron. I wouldn't hurt her, not ever."

He stared at me impassively, weighing up whether to believe me or not.

"Okay, 'cause I don't hold with hitting women." The corner of his mouth twitched. "A little light spanking, maybe, but never hitting."

"No, you save that for your cellmates."

He shrugged.

"Sooo...what happened to her."

"Listen, I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Fine, but disturb me tonight and I'll make you talk."

He scowled and I had no doubt he meant it. Thinking about Laurent's damaged hand, I couldn't help curling mine into tight, finger-protecting fists.

When the doors opened, I made sure to stick close to McCarty as we filed down to the shower block. No way did I want to run into Laurent and James while I was naked, in case they saw it as an invitation.

Before I was sent down, I'd heard tales of inmates making the mistake of "dropping the soap," so it took me three days into my sentence to pluck up enough courage to actually take one. Two weeks in and I didn't turn a hair at being right in the middle of a dozen, naked, hairy men. In fact, nowadays, I was more annoyed we were only allowed three minutes. There were days I could've used a longer soak.

Feeling a little more awake, I shambled down to the cafeteria, all the while keeping a lookout for Alec, but he wasn't around. I deliberately watched Laurent from the corner of my eye as he carried his breakfast tray to a table. He didn't seem to pay me any attention and even sat with his back to me but the weasely looking guy with dirty, blond hair sitting opposite smirked as I caught his eye. I guessed it was his cohort, James.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen."

I cringed at the slimy voice instantly recognizable as belonging to Aro Volturi.

"Hey," I mumbled. It killed me to have to make any conversation with this guy and I cursed Alec for not being here. I met his bloodshot, rodent eyes and tried to keep a poker face as he stretched his lips into a wide smile.

"We haven't spoken for a while and I wondered if there was anything you needed, yet? Booze, smokes...something a little stronger, perhaps?"

This guy really gave me the creeps, reminding me of that old, black and white movie vampire, Nosferatu. His hands clutched together, gliding around the place with stealth, rather than walking like everyone else.

"I'm good, thanks," I said, swilling back a gulp of juice from my plastic cup. He glanced over my shoulder to where James and Laurent sat.

"You sure about that?"

A shiver ran my spine. Did he know their plans, too? And just what the hell did he think I needed? A shank? A gun? A Taser? More important, what would I need to promise him in return? My eternal soul? I could be exchanging one problem for another and I didn't trust this slimy bastard as far as I could throw him. He was right about one thing, though. Having some kind of weapon might not be such a bad idea.

"Yep, I'm certain...but thanks anyway."

His false smile faltered and I watched him sidle away, looking for his next victim.

In the workshop, I was careful to hide what I was doing as I used the grinding wheel to sharpen an offcut of steel until it was as sharp as a razor. I punched two holes large enough for my fingers to slip through in the opposite side and carried it out in my sock, being sure to roll the top down over it so I didn't cut myself before I could get it back to my cell.

Lunch came and went with still no sign of Alec. I was starting to wonder if he was sick so I decided to check his cell.

_Empty._ I frowned at the uneasy feeling it gave me. Something wasn't right.

"Anything wrong, Cullen?" The deep, booming voice of one of the guards rang out and I automatically felt guilty being caught lurking around Alec's bunk.

"No, sir...I just wondered if maybe Alec was sick or something since he wasn't in the cafeteria."

Mr. Uley lifted his eyebrows, which slid his cap farther down his brow, shielding his dark eyes.

"No, he wouldn't be. He's in the infirmary."

My eyes widened. "So, he _is_ sick?"

"It's none of your business, boy. Now, go on and get the fuck out of here." He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders like he was preparing to throw his weight around.

_Fucker._

"Yes, sir." It killed me feign politeness but the guards ate this acting humble shit up and I couldn't afford to be making enemies with them, especially not when I was carrying a concealed weapon in my sock.

I dragged my heels as I meandered back to my own cell. Why would Alec be in the infirmary? He looked healthy enough yesterday. Well, he was in good spirits, at any rate. Maybe he'd eaten something nasty and gotten food poisoning in the middle of the night. It wouldn't surprise me, at all. Some of the inmates who worked in the kitchen didn't exactly take personal hygiene very seriously.

Emmett was in my chair reading a book when I made it back; some kind of murder mystery, from the cover art. I must have let the surprise show on my face as I settled in his usual place on the bunk because he gave me a sideways look.

"I am capable of reading, you know," he muttered.

"Which is it, Dr. Seuss or Jack and Jill?" I snorted and he stuck his middle finger up. I don't know exactly how it happened but we seemed to have settled into this routine of ribbing one another that kind of felt comfortable. I knew for a fact he wouldn't take this crap off anyone else and that, in itself, made me feel privileged.

"Alec's in the infirmary," I said.

"I know," he replied, keeping his eyes trained on the page of text he was reading. "He got beat up last night before lights out."

I gasped. Was I always going to be the last one to know things around here?

"Was it Laurent or James?" I asked and he frowned, slipping a sliver of newspaper between the pages before closing the book.

"Why would it be one of them?" he asked and I shrugged, still unsure of his reaction to knowing Alec had already warned me about Laurent before clamming up and pointing me in his direction for answers to my questions.

"It was one of Volturi's goons teaching him a lesson in the importance of making prompt repayments."

"Shit!" Aro had goons? I'd never seen him hanging out with anyone else. The attack must've come out of nowhere because Alec didn't seem concerned yesterday. I wondered how much damage had been done to take him out of the population.

There was that creeping, sickly feeling of dread again. I was too innocent and naïve to survive in this place. Aro knew it. McCarty knew it. Laurent knew it. Hell, everyone fucking knew it. My weedy arms weren't the only comparison I could make to Kermit the Frog. For a criminal, I was incredibly green.

"I didn't even know he had dealings with Volturi."

"Alec's a damn fool. He's been inside long enough to know you don't jerk around the guys with the biggest dicks."

I couldn't imagine Aro packing much meat in his pants but I understood what he meant.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause while McCarty looked me over and I felt the urge to say something…anything that would fill the empty void with words.

"Yeah, well…um, anyone coming in to visit you today?" I asked, trying not to sound like I was blurting out the first thing that came into my head.

"Yep, my mom will be here," he sighed, "so…that'll be fun."

"Why? Does she still get upset at seeing her little boy in here?" I didn't mean to sound sarcastic but he weighed my intentions anyway before he replied.

"Nah, she gives me a hard time about how selfish I've been wasting my life in here and depriving her of grandchildren. Says she's gonna die old and lonely."

"Huh, some heavy shit to lay on you, dude."

"Not really; I get her point. I'm an only child and, unless I get out early, which is doubtful 'cause I don't always toe the line in here, I'll be thirty-five when I'm released. Then what? I would've spent fifteen years living under this roof and it's way too easy here."

Sighing at the confused look on my face, he sagged against the back of the chair before continuing.

"Look. In here, I don't have to think. I have a routine, food is provided, there's no nine-to-five boss to kiss up to, and no fucking bills to pay. Hell, I don't even know how to balance a checkbook. What girl in her right mind is gonna want to get tangled up with an institutionalized, ex-bank robber who cut off a guy's fingers to get some respect."

He looked pensive as he spoke and it was the first glimpse he'd shown of having a vulnerable side. It was a side I didn't like to see so I hit him with a comeback.

"Well, when you put it like that, you're totally fucked."

He could have taken offense and demolished me but, instead, he just shook his head and laughed.

"Yep, well and truly ass-fucked." He winked and a ripple of panic ran through me. I rotated my foot just to feel the comforting weight of the blade in my sock. "Anyway, anyone coming to see your ugly face?"

I let him get away with that one. "Yeah, my sister."

"Rose?" he asked, brightening considerably.

"She's the only one I got."

"Cool! Hey, maybe you could introduce me," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, 'cause she's really into institutionalized, ex-bank robber types."

"Fuck you, smart mouth."

He shook his head and flipped his book open. Smoothing his heavy palm along the page, he creased the spine and effectively ended the conversation.

Later that day, against a murmur of hushed conversations, McCarty and I stood in line on one side of the corridor while a couple of guards I didn't really know yet moved us along. I glanced down the shuffling column of inmates all struggling to keep quiet and couldn't help thinking how we looked like the world's most shambolic dodge ball team.

"Inmates," Mr. Cameron's voice boomed. "You know the drill. Find your table and sit down. You will remain seated. No visitors will be admitted until everyone is seated. No passing messages. No extended physical contact, and no score settling. Gentlemen, I will be watching."

He paused for effect, rocking back a little on the heels of his shiny black boots, hands clasped behind his back. Most of the guards I'd come across were okay but Cameron was always so serious. No doubt they pretended to be interested in what was going on thinking we'd be less likely to take a potshot at them if we thought they were friendly. This guy's face could've been carved from stone and, if I had to guess, I'd say he was around twenty-two years old, which was awfully young to have such a big stick up his ass.

He pressed down on the door release and everyone filed in. This being a regular thing for most of the guys, they already knew where they were heading. In my ignorance, I almost held back too long and didn't find an empty table until they were nearly all occupied.

The noise levels rose exponentially as the excitement of seeing loved ones continued to build.

Nearly fifty tables were set out in rows of six to ten with anywhere from four to eight chairs to a table. McCarty sat in the row behind me while James was sitting at the table immediately to my left. I refused to let my eyes wander in his direction.

Visiting day is a very big deal around here. Our mail is opened and censored before we receive it so this is our one chance to talk with reasonable freedom and maintain a connection to the outside world. My knee was bouncing under the table at the prospect of seeing Rose.

"Hey, Cullen."

It was James's voice, no more than a callous whisper. I took no notice, keeping my eyes trained on the main entrance door.

"_I said_...Cullen!" he repeated, this time too loud to be ignored. I turned slightly to face him, making sure to keep my expression neutral. He was grinned like The Joker, his blond ponytail slung over one shoulder.

"Saw you in the showers, man. That's a sweet ass you got there. I'm gonna enjoy pounding it while I think about my girl."

_Shit!_ I didn't flinch…not at all. I'd be damned if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd rattled me. My fingers flexed, gripping the edge of the table. Any tighter and I'd have crumbled it to sawdust.

It wasn't the reaction he was hoping for and the smirk slid from his face. I think he was fishing for a full blown panic attack, his way of building the anticipation. But, if I'd learned anything from watching McCarty, it was to keep calm and take no shit. Plus, I had an ace in the hole James didn't know about. My bootleg blade was my trump card and one I wouldn't hesitate to use on him if I had to.

"You deaf or just plain dumb, boy?" he scowled.

I snorted and turned away, focusing all my energy on keeping my breathing level and ignoring the pool of saliva accumulating at the back of my throat that was fast becoming painful. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me swallow hard, not if it choked me. Besides, I was fairly confident he couldn't try anything in here. It was too public and crawling with guards who had nothing better to do than watch us like hawks. It was a shame I couldn't risk carrying the weapon in here but we were searched for contraband on exit and something in my sock would be easily found. Instead, I'd opened a few stitches on my mattress and hidden it among the springs.

A gangly looking guard opened the main door and a throng of people poured in, some jogging quickly over to their loved ones in order to make every second of this precious time count.

I was almost mesmerized watching them file past. They were all so colorful in their "outside" clothes. I'd grown so used to seeing only jumpsuits and neutral guard uniforms, this swell of multicolored, moving fabric was a feast for my eyes. I even zoned out a little…it was like seeing the circus come to town.

Then I spotted her.

Rose was one of the last to enter, almost dragging her heels. Even though she was alone, I'd secretly hoped Mom might have felt up to making the trip at the last minute. She'd already written ahead of time to apologize, blaming her absence on having to stay home for a repair guy, but I knew it was really because yesterday was her wedding anniversary. Dad had been gone almost two years and the pain was still too fresh. There was no way she could sit across the table from her incarcerated baby boy and not crumple into a sobbing mess.

A brassy, fake redhead pushed past my table and settled across from James, a low cut top and push-up bra making her small, pale breasts resemble two overturned soup bowls stuck to her chest. She looked like a hooker…definitely not my type but, somehow, the spectacle of her sparrow legs in mile-high wedges and short skirt was drawing my eyes.

"Yeah, baby. You lookin' good enough to eat," James growled, licking his lips lasciviously, and she squirmed with pleasure, literally basking in his approval. It was grotesquely fascinating, like watching a car crash in slow motion. She felt my eyes and blatantly stared back, pursing her glossy red lips.

"Do _you_ think I look good enough to eat, sugar? 'Cause I think you look like you're starving for something to eat." Her hand slipped down to press hard at her crotch and, annoyingly, I felt my face flame.

"Aww, look, baby…he's so shy!" she shrieked to James, who guffawed explosively

I could feel my temper building and was glad when Rose sat down, giving me an excuse to ignore them.

Little did I know the bastard was just getting warmed up.

**Sooo yeah, another cliffy. Love it, hate it? You know where the box is. **

**Claire ;)  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer - nothing Twilight belongs to me, I borrow for fun and not commercial gain. **

**A/N Thanks as always to Rita0TX who kicks my words into shape and Keye who pre reads. **

**I had a lovely surprise this week when FallingSnow87 contacted me to say she was enjoying the story so much she made me a banner. No one has ever made me artwork without me asking first, so I was really flattered. Thank you honey xx**

**If anyone wants to take a peep, the links to this one and my original banner by Claudia are posted on my profile page. They are both on my Facebook page too (Claire Bamboozle) **

****This chapter contains some physical violence. ****

**Enough with the notes...I left you all dangling on that cliff edge didn't I?  
**

Chapter 8

Ten minutes into visiting time and the donkey bray of James's laughter was already grating on my shredded nerves. To make things worse, if that was even possible, his floozy girlfriend was leaning low over the table, treating anyone with eyes to a view down the front of her top. She didn't seem to care that we could see almost to her navel or that her purple bra clashed ridiculously with her unnatural, clown colored hair.

Grinding my teeth in disgust, my eyes shifted back to Rose, so conservative and classy by contrast. Plainly dressed in jeans and a high necked, loose fitting turquoise sweater, her long blonde hair was wound into a tight bun on top of her head, her face bare of the lip gloss and mascara I was used to seeing her wear. However, while it took nothing away from her natural beauty, the look of sadness in her eyes was the thing that tore me open.

We sat in silence, neither of us knowing how to start the conversation. To me, it didn't matter so much; I was just soothed by the sight of a familiar and beloved face, but I needed to make an effort, for her sake.

"How's Mom?" I asked quietly, acutely aware of the lack of privacy.

"She's had a bad couple of days," Rose answered, wringing her fingers nervously on the table top. "Even though she wanted to come, I don't think she would've made it through the door."

"I understand. Tell her I asked about her," I said, cringing as soon as the words escaped my lips. It was the kind of thing you said about an acquaintance, not your parent. "I'll see her next time."

Rose nodded. This was awkward for us both, being together and not being able to be ourselves. I wanted to let the words flow, to ask how she was really feeling, gather her into a tight hug that would glue her pieces together, if only for a short while, and tell her I missed seeing her smile. But the prison rules were clear on close, physical contact and the proximity of the other tables meant anything said was public knowledge.

I hated that.

Suddenly, and without warning, the dam broke.

"Oh, Eddie! I'm so sorry. I never wanted any of this," she cried, her hand waving in a vague circle. "I should never have called you that night. You don't belong in here and there's nothing I can do about it. I just wish…if I could turn back the clock, you know? God! I'm sorry...so incredibly sorry."

Her voice quavered, tears flowing down her cheeks, and it was forbidden for me to give her the hug she so desperately needed. Instead, I slid my hand across the table and clasped one of hers tightly.

Even though I was the one languishing in prison, she was the one carrying the guilt. Just because she wasn't sleeping in the next cell along the block didn't mean she wasn't serving time, too.

"Rose, none of this is your fault. I'm the one who went to see Royce. You didn't even know until it was too late. I deserve my place here."

"But I hate it. Everything is such a mess," she whimpered, swiping the back of her hand roughly over her eyes.

Sighing deeply, I wondered what I could possibly say to make her feel better. Then something clicked in my head and I looked her over a second time; no make-up, shapeless, figure-hiding clothes, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. She was still terrified. The fear of what had happened was making her hide herself in plain sight. Sure she was here, walking and talking, but she was meek and apologetic. She'd never been a loud, gregarious person before but now she was a shadow of her former self.

She wasn't the only one wishing to turn back the clock. If only I could've made her see sense and report the attack to the police that night, Royce would've been arrested and I probably wouldn't have gotten myself involved. Not only that; Rose would've been offered the counseling she clearly needed to help her rebuild her life. Her pride had turned his crime into a dirty secret only the two of us shared, something that bound us together but might ultimately consume her completely.

"Hey, blondie! How'd you like to fuck a real man instead of that queer?"

Rose gasped in horror as James called out, mistaking her for my girlfriend. Jerking upright, I glanced at his table, fully expecting his woman to be mortified by his crass propositioning of another woman but she was actually grinning. Rose's free hand fluttered up to her chest, subconsciously covering her breasts.

"Whatta ya say, Vic? You'd be up for a threesome, right?"

"Sure would, Jamie," she crooned, "Although she don't look like she'd be much fun to me."

I don't know why her reaction surprised me. James was pond scum so it stood to reason his girl would be just as vile. Rose was shaking, her eyes wide, too frightened to respond. If the blade were still in my sock, I'd have slit James's throat where he sat.

"Yeah, I think you're right, dollface! She does look kinda frigid. Well, once she gets a taste of my long, thick cock, we'll see what a grateful slut she can be."

Vic burst into a fit of nasally giggles, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, and I wanted to rip it out by the roots.

"Shut. The. Fuck. UP!" I hissed loudly, my jaw clinched tight. Struggling to control my temper, I let go of Rose's hand to clench my fists under the table.

James laughed in my face, delighted to have pissed me off.

"Ooh, don't like that idea, huh? Well, maybe we'll cut you in on some of the action, Cullen, but you'll have to beg first." His face twisted into an evil sneer. "You'd like that, huh? Getting down on your knees and begging me for a taste of Vickie's sweet cunt?"

Bizarrely, Vic was laughing her stupid head off and damned if it didn't seem like she was getting off watching her man bully us.

Worthy of a scene from The Incredible Hulk, I could feel my insides boiling hotter and hotter as my rage built. I half expected to turn green and burst out of my jumpsuit at any second and, suddenly, I was there again, skulking in the shadows of Royce's front yard, watching the smug bastard through his window. Adrenaline flooded my system, making my breath shallow and my heart thunder against my ribs. Hearing Rose sob, her palms pressed over her eyes, I snapped.

It all happened in an instant.

"You fucking bastard!" I roared, instantly on my feet.

Picking up the metal framed chair on which I'd been sitting, I swung it with all my might. One of the legs hit James square in the mouth with a sickening crunch and I saw a tooth go flying in slow motion. Dazed and bleeding, he flopped back against his chair. Vic screamed at the blood dripping down his chest just as a team of guards tackled me to the concrete floor. Rough hands grabbed me everywhere; someone's elbow dug brutally between my shoulder blades, pressing down and forcing the air from my lungs. This allowed them to yank my arms behind my back to cuff them securely. From my position on the floor, I had a sideways view of the ensuing chaos.

An alarm bell shrilled while two more guards rushed over to James with a First Aid kit. By this time, Vic was hopping from one foot to the other like some kind of redheaded ostrich, fussing over James and yelling for help. All the other guards were trying to evacuate the visitors and, of course, some of the prisoners took advantage of the distraction, scrambling quickly around their tables to kiss and grope their girls. Two inmates brawled on the floor in the corner, using this chance to settle an old score, and Rose...she looked lost and terrified in the heart of the maelstrom.

And just like that, a wave of shame instantly brought me back to the room. _Shit! _I was an animal, violent and feral…no better than James. The guards were force marching me from the room when another inmate sidled up to Rose, leering and stroking his hand along her arm. She cringed away from him and I was powerless to help. Desperate to get back across the room, I struggled and kicked out at the guards but they simply tightened their grip and threatened me with more pointless punishments.

As I was finally dragged through the doors, the last thing I saw was Emmett rushing from his table to bawl out the guy, pushing him hard on his ass before kneeling at Rose's side. Hunkered down like that, he looked like an obedient dog, her own personal Rottweiler and, from the look of genuine concern on his face, I could tell he was making sure she was okay. It made me feel strangely calm to know my cellmate was stepping up to be my sister's protector.

Ten days in solitary was my punishment for knocking out two of James Hunter's front teeth.

It was worth it and I only hoped it would shut the loud mouthed bastard up for a while.

As I sat in the head ringing silence of my bare isolation cell, I tormented myself with thoughts of Rose. The way she'd reacted to James's taunting by drawing in on herself and sobbing had shaken me. She'd looked so vulnerable and afraid. The Rose I grew up with, while often quiet and thoughtful, wouldn't have cowered like that. She'd have slapped him down with a snarky comeback, something along the lines of not being able to touch him until she'd had her rabies shots or maybe in his dreams and her nightmares.

Royce King still had so much to answer for.

Contrary to the purpose of this particular punishment, I didn't now, nor would I ever regret defending her honor. In fact, when Mr. Jenks, one of the guards, brought my dinner and told me the good news about James's injuries, I almost laughed. He couldn't say it but, from the way his lips twitched, I think the guards had enjoyed seeing him brought down. Most likely, he was a royal pain it their asses, too, and it actually made me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy to know I'd dished it out. Hell, it might even earn me a reputation like Emmett's. Okay, maybe hitting him with a chair wasn't quite as extreme as taking someone's fingers but surely it made me look like I wouldn't take shit off of anyone and, who knew, it might even be enough to make James and Laurent reconsider trying their luck with me.

My only regret was Rose being left alone to deal with the fallout from my temper, especially since she'd looked close to reaching her breaking point. With any luck, Emmett would have managed to stay with her until a guard ushered her out. What if that skanky Vic had turned nasty or sought her out and threatened her when they were alone in the parking lot? The very idea was enough to make my stomach roil. Unfortunately, until I got out of this room and back to the general population, I had no way of finding out.

My thoughts drifted to my mom and I wondered how she was coping. It had been over a week since her wedding anniversary and I hoped she was getting back to something close to an even keel. Rose was bound to have told her what happened and I dreaded to think what she would make of my outburst. Would she understand I was only trying to defend Rose? Would she even recognize this feral madman who was so quick to lash out as the loving son she thought she'd raised? Oh, God! Would she hate me, turn her back on me and reject me?

A guy could drive himself crazy with those kinds of thoughts.

My first day alone was fine. They allowed me out into the exercise yard for an hour while everyone else was buttoned up inside. I struggled with some of the weight equipment and decided maybe Emmett had a point about my arms being a little on the puny side. It wasn't that I wanted to develop the kind of "Bluto on steroids" physique he had going on but a little bulking up wouldn't hurt.

By day three, I was missing Emmett's company as well as his humor. There was something about the guy that got under your skin. I'd persevered with the weights and had the aching muscles to prove it. It was too soon to see any results but it felt like I was moving towards a goal and that had to be a good thing.

On day five, the isolation began getting to me and I started feeling paranoid. What if the guards had searched the cell and found my blade? They had the right to make unannounced shakedowns if they suspected an inmate had contraband and Emmett might get the blame if my weapon was discovered.

I thought about Aro and worried about Alec. I didn't know if he was out of the infirmary yet or how badly he'd been hurt. I wondered whether he'd even notice I was gone. Then there was James and Laurent. On the one hand, I knew I was safe while I was here but, on the other, I had a nasty feeling my actions wouldn't make them respect me but more determined to take me down.

That one kept me awake at night.

By day seven, I was hitting the weights like a lunatic. The aches and pains had morphed into something more like a delicious burn and it was probably my imagination but I could swear I was seeing the start of some definition in my biceps. For a little added benefit, I wasted a few more hours a day doing crunches and push-ups. I would definitely be taking Emmett up on his offer to join his work-out sessions when I got out.

Day ten eventually rolled around and a guard silently escorted me back to my cell just in time for lock down. I was relieved when he took me back to my old cell but hesitated to enter when I saw the thunderous look on McCarty's face. I actually jumped when the door slammed behind me, sealing us in.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Towering over me menacingly, he more or less barked the words at me the instant the guard left us alone.

"You didn't hear the vile stuff he was saying, I..."

He cut me off.

"You stupid little shit. You never lose it like that in front of the screws. They'll be watching you extra close, now."

His reaction kind of pissed me off. I'd just spent the last ten days without any comforts and he was calling me out. I squared up to him.

"What's that to you?"

He rolled his eyes and puffed out a huge breath in frustration.

"Because, dumb ass…if they are watching you, they're watching me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

He flopped onto his mattress and stared up at the bottom of my bunk.

I gave him a moment to calm before I spoke again.

"Hey, man. Thanks for taking care of Rose for me. James and his bitch really upset her."

"I know. I was watching."

Of course he was. There didn't seem to be anything going on in here that escaped his beady little eyes.

"Was your mom pissed when her visit got cut short?" I asked, wracking my brains to remember if I'd even noticed what she looked like but coming up blank.

"Nah. Once they carried James out and got everyone calmed down, they let everybody back in. She still had plenty of time to point out each and every one of my many flaws."

I gave him a lopsided half-smile, not sure if he was being funny or not.

"Was Rose okay...after I was dragged out, I mean?"

I still didn't know if she made it to the car without running into that nightmare in stilettos, Vic.

"I hope she made it home in one piece."

"She was really shook up but...yeah; she made it home just fine."

I frowned.

"How do you know she got home okay?"

A small smile flickered at his lips.

"Because I told her she shouldn't be driving, as shook up as she was, and that you'd be worried. Also, because I asked her to write me so we'd both know she got home safely."

The sly dog got his foot in the door behind my back and made her his pen pal.

"Sooo, you're already putting the moves on my sister, huh?"

I didn't know whether to be happy or horrified. Emmett had no idea how fragile she was. One thoughtless comment could send her screaming back to square one. On the other hand, I trusted him and he did step in to help her when I couldn't. I fell back onto my old failsafe…sarcasm.

"I should warn you; if you hurt her, I might have to hit you over the head with a chair, too."

Emmett snorted, not in the least bit intimidated by my threat.

"You know James is talking like Sylvester the cat, now?"

Trust Emmett to find humor in someone else's misfortune but I couldn't deny the guy had a genuine gift for finding the funnies.

"And he is almighty pissed with you."

That killed the mood and reminded me why I needed to find my blade when the lights went out.

"Well, I better keep looking over my shoulder, then."

"I would. By the way; you've earned a new nickname," he chuckled.

_Fuck!_ What now?

"They're calling you The Dentist."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I suppose it could've been worse.

"Damn! And here I was hoping for The Chairminator," I deadpanned.

Emmett full on belly laughed, shaking the bunk until it groaned under his weight.

"Oh, hey. I took your advice and started working out."

I thought he'd be impressed but, for some reason, it just sent him off into another gale of laughter.

"Fuck! Solitary must've been worse that I thought," he snorted. "You're like a mini me. Next thing you know, you'll be getting a tattoo."

"Yeah, and maybe it'll say _I love Alice_."

He pulled himself up just enough to blow me a kiss and bat his eyelashes.

"Awww, make sure to put it on your ass, Kermit."

And there it was. After ten days alone, normal service had resumed and, for that night at least, I could sleep soundly.

Tomorrow would be a whole new day; one I would spend watching my back.

**Okay,** **who said "Hell Yeah!" when Eddie snapped? Why not leave me a review and tell if you think he's made things better or a whole lot worse for himself. **

**See you next Tuesday.**

**Claire x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight or the original characters...the plot line however is all mine.  
**

**A/N - Thanks to Rita01TX who gets sent all my Britishisms and misplaced commas and then kicks it into shape. Keye who has happily pre read and supported me and Claudia and FallingSnowWinter for the beautiful artworks. (Check out the banner links on my profile, or on FaceBook.) Special shout out to EeWee and Bevey99 for giving me the prod to write this tale.**

**Sooo, the general feeling last week was that we enjoyed seeing Eddie silence James, but we're all worried in case he comes looking for revenge. **

Chapter 9

The next couple of days were uncomfortable. Twitchy as a meerkat, I existed in a state of near constant anxiety, my head flicking around to catch a glimpse of James or Laurent, but either I was lucky or they were deliberately avoiding me because I didn't see either of them.

My homemade, sharpened, metal knuckleduster was constantly on the move. Whenever possible, I carried it in my sock but, when it wasn't practical to keep it on me, I slipped it in and out from between the mattress springs.

The day two guards came in for a routine shakedown of our cell caused an unnerving half hour that felt like an eternity. Gritting my teeth, I forced my face to remain impassive while they felt around the bunks, tilting the mattresses to check the frame beneath them. Fortunately, I'd found a way of wedging the blade so tightly it didn't move or jingle. Even so, it was a tense moment hoping they wouldn't notice the popped stitching on the far corner before they dropped it back in place and moved on to check behind the mirror.

Finally setting eyes on Alec again had been a huge relief. He was already in the shower block when McCarty and I arrived the morning after my release from solitary. Naked as we were, I could see for myself the damage Aro's henchman had done to him. The bruises blooming over this chest and ribs had had enough time to fade to a sickly, yellowish-brown color and the stitches above his eye were almost healed but it must have been some beating since most of his torso appeared to have been targeted.

"Ed!" he called out, his face breaking into a huge grin as he briskly lathered the soap over his stomach. "I missed ya, man."

It wasn't like I could be polite and pretend to ignore the damage so I decided to be upfront and get it out of the way.

"Yeah, me too. Got yourself some wicked bruises, there, dude. You okay?" I asked.

"Meh, it's not so bad. You should've seen the other guy," he joked, letting the stream of water rinse the soap down the drain. "I hear you've taken up dentistry. I'll be sure to make an appointment if any of my fillings ever come loose."

A few of the guys chuckled and I guessed that meant James wasn't popular with anyone.

The showers were timed for three minutes and his was done. Rubbing the water droplets from his face with the flat of his palm, he stepped out and reached for his towel.

"Sorry, but I only do extractions," I called, closing my eyes and tipping my head under the flow of warm water, enjoying the sensations as it plastered my hair flat to my scalp.

Alec hung around until I was done, making small talk before we walked together to get breakfast.

"So, can you say who did that to you?" I asked, once we were seated as far from earshot of the other inmates as we were going to get.

He shrugged, smoothing his hands along the table top and I knew he wasn't going to give me a name.

"I owed someone for a couple of joints and was late paying up. It was a total misunderstanding but it's all straightened out now," he said with a weak smile that did nothing to convince me he was off the hook but I didn't call him out on it.

Alec had spent a huge chunk of his adult life on the inside and knew the score. I studied his face. If I didn't know he was twenty-four, I'd have guessed thirty. Mind you, most of the guys in here seemed older than their years; world weary and cynical. I wondered how it would affect me…the time spent inside, drawing myself in and submitting to the regime. How old would I look when I finally made it out of this place?

"Is that going to leave a mark?" I asked, indicating at the stitches over his eyebrow.

He shrugged, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. It was mid-length but, unlike mine, which seemed to stand to attention if I let it get beyond two inches long, his was soft, almost like baby hair, and it stayed where he put it.

"I don't know but it's cool. The ladies love a good scar, right?"

I chuckled. What the hell did I know about what women found attractive in a man?

"Hey, McCarty said it was your birthday tomorrow."

_Fuck!_ Emmett the oracle strikes again. How did he know that when I'd completely lost track of the days. I did a hasty backwards recount of how long I'd been inside. Today and tomorrow was two, add another ten days for solitary and visiting day was the twelfth..._damn!_ He was right. Wow, my birthday.

Normally, and by that I mean if I was still on the outside, I'd have been excited to be turning nineteen and one year closer to legal drinking age. I'd have been looking forward to some kind of celebration, probably dinner at a nice restaurant with Mom and Rose. She'd have let me invite Jasper and Alice, of course, and we would have had a good time with some laughs, a few presents, and Mom would've insisted on a huge cake with nineteen candles for me to blow out and make a wish.

No prizes for guessing what I'd be wishing for this year.

"Yeah, I'll be nineteen," I said wistfully, still thinking about the birthday party that might have been.

Jasper had only written once. Mom had tucked his one-page letter in with hers the first week I was incarcerated. He didn't have much to say. School was crappy without me, his truck had blown a gasket so he was back to walking until he could save up for parts, and Alice had made a picnic for their hike in the woods. Ordinary, mundane stuff he thought I'd like to hear but which tore at my heart and left me shedding silent tears late into the night for all I'd thrown away. I wrote back but our worlds had diverged to such an extent I had to tone down my reply to talk about prison food and the weather. It almost felt like I was being deceitful, sticking to such basic topics, but filling him in on how McCarty had knocked me out or retelling Alec's story about the girl with the watermelon sized boobs didn't seem appropriate, either.

I sighed heavily and tapped the bowl of my spoon against the surface of the oatmeal in my bowl.

"Well, fuck. Nineteen is no reason to sulk. We should totally mark the occasion," he grinned.

"What do you mean?" I asked, baffled. There were hundreds of men in this place so people must be having birthdays every day but I'd never heard anyone sing Happy Birthday.

"Ahh, now that would be telling," he said, tapping a finger on the side of his nose. I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "Now, if you're finished with your slops, Mr. Cullen, you may accompany me while I indulge in a smoke."

Quickly glancing around for James or Laurent, I cleared my tray to the rack and followed Alec outside.

It was a relief to get back to my bench in the workshop, not least because there was no chance of running into James while I was there and that, in turn, meant I could stop checking over my shoulder for a couple of hours. Solitary had been mind-numbingly boring and I was surprised how much I enjoyed getting my head back in the game by acquiring a little practical knowledge. Alec worked on a bench on the far side of the room and he was the one I would to call on for help whenever I got stuck.

At the end of the shift, I switched Alec's company for McCarty's as I continued my health kick by working with the weights. Despite being surrounded by his usual cronies, McCarty quickly became my personal workout buddy, correcting my technique and pushing me to dig deeper than I would've gone alone.

"So," I said, grunting under the strain of pressing the additional ten pounds of weight he'd added. "Wanna tell me how you knew about my birthday?"

He smirked. "Rose told me."

"Rose!" I almost dropped the bar in surprise. "You've seen her?"

He scrunched his face up like I was dumber than a bag of wet mice. "No, she wrote to me. I told you last night."

"Oh, yeah, sorry...I forgot," I gritted out, my arms quivering while he checked the alignment on my next lift. "So, what else did she have to say?"

"Nothing much, just that she got home safely and thanked me for my help."

Yeah, I still hadn't forgotten about that creep touching her. I just hadn't run into him yet.

"And my birthday fit into it, how?"

"She wanted to know if there was anything you needed that she could send as a present."

"So, what'd you tell her?"

He helped me guide the bar back onto its resting stand before adding a further forty pounds and taking my place. My eyes bulged as I watched him lift the heavier weights like they were made out of toothpicks.

"Gummy Bears."

"Freakin' Gummy Bears?" I frowned, curling my lip like Elvis. "I don't even like Gummy Bears."

"Really? Good job I do, then."

I had to laugh. He was such a sneaky bastard. First he got her to write to him and now she was being conned into sending his favorite candy.

The rest of the day passed without any major incidents. James and Laurent didn't show their faces in the general population and I couldn't say I missed seeing them.

I was almost relaxed, enjoying a boisterous discussion about football with Alec, when it was time to turn in. Although his cell was in a different direction, he walked back with me, patting my shoulder before calling goodnight and heading off to his own bunk.

"Night," McCarty said without looking at him, his eyes fixed on the cardboard box sitting on the desk. Even from a distance, I could see it had been opened and resealed, like all the mail was in this place. None of us had the luxury of privacy.

"What's that?" I asked and he pulled the "bag of wet mice" face at me for the second time today.

"What do you think it is, dumb ass? _It's the Gummy Bears__!_"

The biggest grin lit up his face and I raised a brow, never having seen a grown man so excited over a stupid bag of candy before.

"Oh," I said, picking up the box to read the label and catching a twinge of nostalgia at seeing Rose's elegant, looping script. McCarty was perched on the edge of his bunk, eyes glued to the package like an old hound dog watching a _Snausage® _and I wondered how much time he'd spent sniffing the damn thing before I got here. I turned it around and around in my hands before setting it back down. "Maybe I'll save it until tomorrow."

His face fell instantly.

"Fuck that, man…I need sugar!" he cried, reaching out to snatch the box but I swiped it away just in time.

"Okay, okay! No need to get all grabby. I'm just fucking with you," I chuckled.

"Asshole," he sulked and settled back on the bunk.

The office flunkies had used wide, sticky tape to close up the box after its contents had been checked. Carefully peeling it back, I unfolded the flaps and found a letter from Rose and one from Mom inside, together with two birthday cards. Mom had also included a couple of bars of great smelling soap…one vanilla and one lemon. Since these were much nicer than the standard issue, I'd have to keep a close eye on them or they would grow legs.

Rose sent a book to torture me with…a pictorial history of the Harley Davidson. I knew she meant well but, as with the magazine subscription, it reminded me of everything I'd lost; my freedom, my dad and the bike herself.

When I opened her letter, a short note fell out. I read it, even though it was addressed to Emmett.

_Dear Mr. McCarty, _

_I have enclosed the Gummy Bears you suggested but, since I know for a fact Edward hates them, I guess it's you who enjoys this particular brand of candy. No matter; you earned a reward when you came to my rescue so please enjoy them with my thanks. _

_R. Cullen._

"Here," I grinned, tossing the note and the candy in his direction. He snatched them out of thin air and quickly read the note. For a fleeting moment, he looked positively sheepish before tearing into the bag. I unfolded my letters and read Mom's first.

_Darling Edward,_

_I'm missing you every day and I've been worried sick ever since Rose told me what happened during her visit. I know you felt you had to stand up for her but please be careful, for my sake. I don't want you to end up getting hurt in there..._

I sighed and rolled my eyes. If she knew I was under threat of being gang raped by the guy whose teeth I'd knocked out and his friend whose fingers had been amputated by my cellmate, or that my best friend had just spent a week in the infirmary after being beaten within an inch of his life for late payment of a debt, she'd be having a nervous breakdown.

Skimming the rest of her words, I was reminded life on the outside went on just fine without me. The flowers were blooming, a raccoon had raided the garbage cans, and she would be here next visiting day.

Tapping Rose's letter against my fingertips, I hesitated before opening it, wondering what she felt the need to say.

_Eddie, _

_Emmett promised he'd let you know I got home safely. _

_I need to apologize for freaking out. I should have been stronger, for your sake, but I found it so hard to see you stuck in there, having to associate with that horrible man. You don't belong there and I wish we could swap places. At least then I'd have a reason for all these feelings of guilt and shame. _

_I'm glad you have a friend you can rely on. Emmett seemed to be a loyal, dependable guy, at least._

_I'll try to be better prepared next time. Hope you have a happy birthday._

_Love you & miss you,_

_Rose_

It ripped my heart out to know how much guilt she was carrying but I was too drained to process it tonight. I folded up the letters and tucked them back in the box, swapping them for the bar of lemon soap. Inhaling deeply, its fragrance every bit as fresh and zesty as the fruit itself, I was transported away from my cell, back to childhood memories of Mom in the kitchen slicing up the bright, yellow spheres to make lemonade. It might only have been a simple gift, probably no more than ten dollars for them both but, to me, it was priceless. I slipped the bar under my pillow hoping the scent would help me sleep better.

The three minute warning for lights out sounded and I climbed up to the top bunk. By the rustle of paper from below, I guessed McCarty was rereading Rose's note.

"She was really scared, you know," he said quietly, "When you were dragged out and then when Randall touched her, she was shaking...totally paralyzed with fear."

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. Randall. Now I knew what to call him before I punched his lights out.

How ironic…the lights in the block dimmed.

"James said some pretty disgusting things," I told him, staring up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing the shadows running the length of the hairline crack in the corner.

"Yeah, he's a dick but her reaction was too extreme for simple name calling. She dug her nails into my arm and wouldn't let go. I don't think she even knew she was doing it." He paused, thinking how best to phrase the obvious question and I held my breath. "Tell me to mind my own business if you want but..."

"Mind your own business."

I hoped he would…he didn't.

"_But, _when I add that to your nightmares, I'm coming up with something real bad happening to that girl."

My silence didn't stop him, either.

"Ed, did someone rape her? The same someone you beat to a pulp, maybe?"

_Fuck!_ I was trapped. Should I lie and deny it, protecting Rose and my secret at all costs, or should I admit the truth and let one more person join our exclusive club? Could I even trust him not to tell everyone in the prison population? Either option came with risks now that he was in contact with her. If she found out he knew, she might hate me forever or, if he believed my lie, he could accidentally say something to set back any progress she was making to move past the attack.

I must've deliberated a beat too long because he took my failure to speak as an admission.

"Jesus, Ed! I don't blame you for fucking him up. Was it bad?"

In the semi-darkness, his voice was low and sincere. I didn't believe he was asking to get off on the salacious details; he sounded more concerned than anything else.

"Yes," I whispered, trying to force my mind away from the memories of her slumped in the cold darkness of the alley.

"Was there insufficient evidence to charge him or did he have a great lawyer?"

I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn't want to talk about it. McCarty was pushing me into a place I wasn't happy going. Of course he would assume Royce had been arrested but got away with it. Why else would I have assaulted him if justice had been done?

"He was never arrested. Rose didn't want anyone to know," I said, keeping my voice low. "And I don't want you shooting your mouth off to anyone about it, either."

"Fuuuck," he whispered. "I won't say anything but that's messed up, dude. She should've told the cops."

"Yeah, I know, but it was her call. I had no choice but to respect her decision."

For what felt like hours, I lay staring blankly at the ceiling, looking but not seeing. Eventually, McCarty's breathing became raspy before giving way to decidedly non-rhythmic snores. I hadn't deliberately told him…he'd figured it out himself, putting two and two together. Even so, I felt guilty that Rose's secret wasn't so secret anymore. Could I trust McCarty to keep his mouth closed? I'd been his cellmate for less than a month and still knew very little about the guy.

This uneasy feeling was probably the reason the rest of my night was spent running through endless corridors in an attempt to escape the unseen monsters pursuing me.

**A/N - So, no gut wrenching drama this week, but Alec's back in the population, Emmett has a sweet tooth and he knows Rose's secret and lemon scented Eddie is due a birthday...what do you think he's gonna get as a present from Alec? Answers in the box below.  
**

** (****Hint, it's not as good as the visual I gave you of a naked Eddie in the shower ;D )**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters belong to their owners. I borrow for fun and no copyright infringement is intended. **

**A/N well no one guessed what Alec has for Eddie, it's an odd gift, but was something I came across when researching and happened to read a document written by an ex-con which was basically explaining prison life for the newly convicted. You may not be impressed lol. **

**Thanks as always to my team of helpers, Rita01TX who makes my raw words purdy and Keye who checks everything makes sense. **

** ****WARNING******

**This chapter contains scenes of strong violence and physical assault and may be difficult for some readers. If in doubt, please think twice before you read on. **

Chapter 10

_Happy birthday to me, _

_Happy birthday to me, _

_Stuck with Alice in the slammer..._

_Happy birthday to meee!_

Swinging my two forefingers back and forth, I sang sarcastically in my head as I stared at the lumps and crack in the ceiling. McCarty stirred in the bunk below. Morning wake-up hadn't sounded yet but his built-in alarm mechanism always roused him the second a ray of sunlight crept through the small window in the top of our cell wall. Had I been quick enough, I could've beaten him to the sink but I was finding it difficult to muster the least bit of enthusiasm.

I'd only tried once to see out that window, kneeling on my bunk with my neck bent over and my ear pressed against the ceiling. This cell was on the second floor and, from this angle, I couldn't see much. A tiny patch of blue sky and a small sliver of dark grey brickwork...another prison wing, I guessed. Nothing that gave me bearings for matching up the inside position with what I knew of the outside, anyway. Not that I was plotting an escape; I was just naturally curious.

McCarty's feet slapped against the floor and the urge to piss finally forced me to move from the warmth of my pit.

"Morning, birthday boy," he bellowed as I climbed down to answer nature's call.

A grunt was all he got in reply. McCarty was always so damn bright in a morning. Not like me…I was a grouch. He cocked a brow and ran his toothbrush under the faucet. A guard passed the cell door, wordlessly depositing two safety razors for our daily shave. I grabbed them and handed one to him. All things considered, it was pretty loose in here. After roll call, we were more or less free to roam around; however, they didn't trust us not to take apart a razor for the blade and counted them back in after use.

"That's a pretty cool book Rose sent. You into bikes or something?"

I glanced at it, lying still unopened on the desk.

"I have a Harley," I said flatly.

Both eyebrows hit his hairline, naturally assuming I was bullshitting. So many inmates would tell fantastic tales of how they had Porsches and lived porn star lifestyles in huge mansions on the outside...right before they tried to bum a smoke. You learned to take everything with a grain of salt. Not that I could blame him for being skeptical. I mean, how many eighteen-year-olds have such an expensive toy? I felt the need to explain.

"For real. An '82 Superglide. She was my father's...he, um, he left it to me when he died two years ago."

"I'm sorry, man," he said, lathering up for the first swipe along his jaw. Seconds passed before he continued. "Me, I'm clueless when it comes to motorcycles."

With only one sink in the cell, I had nothing better to do so I flicked through the book trying to find the section with the 1980s models.

"That's the one," I said, leaving it open on the page showing a shiny, black and red version of my pride and joy. Seeing her twin framed by a wet, tree-lined, open road twisted my guts. At that moment, I'd have given my soul to be able to hop on the saddle and ride out of sight. "Except mine is all black."

He glanced over as he rinsed off his blade. "Nice."

I couldn't answer. My mind was still contemplating what might lie at the end of that inviting road. Eventually, I closed the book and shoved it to the back of the desk.

"Morning," Alec chirped brightly, poking his head through the cell door, "I would sing Happy Birthday but you don't want an earache for a present...not when you could have _this_!"

He pulled his hands from behind his back and held out a towel, looking especially pleased with himself.

I frowned.

"Thanks…I think," I said, confused as to why he was presenting me with a towel.

He rolled his eyes and tsked, obviously exasperated with my idiocy.

"Here." He pushed into the cell and laid the towel on the table before whipping it away with a "ta dah" to reveal a small sponge cake and a pint sized plastic baggie filled with grey powder.

_Fuck! _My mouth went dry as I gaped at the offending item lying on the desk. I didn't even smoke cigarettes…there was no way I wanted to get involved with whatever shit this was. I glanced at McCarty, horrified to see him nodding his approval at Alec.

"Alec, what the _fuck_ is that? You know I don't do drugs!"

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence while Alec and McCarty exchanged a glance before convulsing with laughter.

"Oh, man," McCarty could hardly speak, "You think this is coke or something?"

I shrugged, feeling somewhere between naïve and pissed off at being left out of the loop.

"Dude, it's not drugs," Alec chuckled, a big grin still on his face. "It's pepper."

"Pepper?" I repeated, my face scrunching up in confusion. Why the fuck they both seemed to think that was a fantastic gift was beyond me.

"Yeah, pepper. I'm in with one of the kitchen guys. For a few smokes, he baked the cake and snuck me the pepper." Seeing I still wasn't getting it, he added, "I thought you might want to throw it at Laurent or James if they made a move on you and, if not, you can always spice up your food with it."

Of course! He was right. I had noticed there were never any condiments in the dining hall. It was partly why the plainer food tasted so bland. We weren't trusted not to hurl it into the guards' eyes. I picked it up and rolled the bag across my palm. I suppose it couldn't hurt to have an extra weapon, just in case. I glanced at McCarty patting Alec on the shoulder and was touched by how lucky I'd been, apparently falling in with the only two genuine men in this pit of vipers.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it," I gulped. It wouldn't do to get all teary-eyed so I sucked it up and gave Alec an awkward, one-arm hug. He slapped my shoulder and pretended not to notice.

Stowing the pepper in my pocket, I broke the sponge cake into three chunks and shared them with my friends.

After lunch, I hit the weights with McCarty and Alec hung with us, although he didn't go anywhere near the equipment, blaming his mostly healed injuries for his not participating. Instead, he sat on an unoccupied bench and chain smoked while McCarty pushed me past my limit.

"Tell you what, Cullen," he said, forcing me to make five more reps than I thought I could manage.

"What?" I gasped, rubbing the sweat from my brow on the shoulder of my t-shirt. Once I realized my movements were easier that way, I'd taken to copying McCarty...half wearing my jumpsuit and tying the sleeves around my waist.

"When those arms and shoulders bulk up, you should seriously think about getting a tattoo. I know a guy over on D wing who was a professional artist before he got locked up."

I deliberately didn't ask if he had proper equipment and how he sterilized it or what he'd done to land himself in here in case it involved maiming someone.

"I don't know," I said, imagining my mom's reaction to seeing me permanently inked. Never a fan of tattoos on men, she'd probably have a coronary if I turned up sporting one.

"He did some of mine," he said, oblivious to my reluctance. "You just have to pick a design that means something to you. That way, it's like carrying the story of your life on your skin."

I hadn't thought of ink in that light and instantly pictured my father. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to choose something as a tribute to him. Even naked, he would be with me at all times. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Needing to lighten the mood for myself, at least, I said, "So, nothing like, 'Kermit loves Alice,' then."

McCarty snorted and Alec frowned.

"Why, Kermit? And who the fuck is Alice? She one of your exes?"

"He wishes," McCarty said and I laughed. Alec's confusion deepened.

"It's a long story. I'll fill you in sometime."

"Okay," he said, brightening immediately before standing up and stamping his cig out on the asphalt. "Listen, I gotta go. I need to see a man about a dog."

I didn't press him. In this place, we all had precious little privacy, as it was. If he had somewhere he needed to be and he didn't want to cut us in, that was his prerogative. I just hoped he wasn't going off to do more business with Aro after the beating he took.

"'K, we'll see you later," I said and he nodded. McCarty, who was lying on the weight bench, held a fist out for him to bump as he passed.

"Seems like a cool enough guy," he remarked, smoothly pressing the weight bar, and I nodded.

"Yeah, I like him," I said, sniffing at my armpit and grimacing at the pungent odor. "Well, I think I'm gonna go clean up and maybe watch some TV."

The showers were only available in the morning or evening but there was a sink and Mom's luxury vanilla soap waiting back in our cell.

"Okay," he said cautiously and I could see he was wrestling over whether to let me go alone. He scrunched his face before nodding, "You got your _present_ with you?"

I tapped my pocket, making sure the baggie was still there, and nodded before striding back to the main building.

The corridor back to our wing was deserted. Since the sun was shining, the inmates who would normally be mooching around had taken the chance to get out into the yard to catch some rays. It gave the place a quiet, eerie feel.

Too quiet…too eerie, but we never listen to our instincts, do we?

The laundry room door caught my attention although it wouldn't be open for another forty-five minutes. Staring sightlessly at the wood grain on the door, I slowed my pace and wondered if I should come back later and ask if there were any shifts available that might fit around my education. While the workshop was all about prisoner rehabilitation, a place to learn new skills and achieve some qualifications that might actually help me when I finally made it back to the outside world, working in the laundry was a paying job and I could certainly use some cash.

I shouldn't have let myself get so distracted.

It was the swiftness of their attack that caught me off guard.

One second I was looking at the solid, locked door...the next I was shoved hard against it, someone's arm around my neck while his other hiked mine up my back. I knew who it was without looking and sucked in a deep breath to call for help, struggling to get free as a third hand stuffed something in my mouth to silence me. A balled up sock, most likely.

I wriggled and tried to kick out backwards, earning a hard punch to the kidneys that froze me with pain. James fumbled at picking the lock for a second before it gave and I was roughly pushed inside. The door slammed behind us and my heart sank as I realized I was well and truly trapped.

With the lights out, the place was in semi-darkness with only a minimal amount of daylight filtering through the distorted security glass in the high windows. Our movements disturbed the stillness causing fibers and dust motes to swirl and dance in the air, glittering like diamonds against the shadows of the industrial machinery. It would have been beautiful to watch if what was happening hadn't been so horrific.

The thick, cloying smell of detergent, combined with the gag in my mouth, made me retch. I barely managed to pull the fabric from my teeth before James landed a vicious punch to the back of my head that sent me reeling to the floor.

"Thath's for my teef you fucking freak," he lisped around the gap in his mouth and followed the punch with a hard kick to my ribs for good measure. Pain exploded across my side. Again, I tried to call out but the agony of breathing in against a broken rib took the words from my lips, leaving only a groan as I hugged my arms protectively around my middle.

"James! We ain't got time to settle scores. Hold him down."

I couldn't see Laurent as James was pressing his full weight on top of me, forcing my face to the floor, but I could certainly hear every click of the metal teeth as he slowly pulled his zipper down to open his jumpsuit.

_Oh, shit!_ This was really going to happen. Panting frantically, I tried to wriggle out from under James but the pain was excruciating. Although the blade was in my sock, there was no way I could reach it with his full weight pressing down on me.

"Get his suit off," Laurent hissed and I knew it was now or never. Snaking my hand into my pocket, I almost laughed hysterically in relief when my fingers brushed the plastic bag. James eased his grip to fumble with the sleeves tied in a tight knot at my waist, cursing under his breath and spluttering through the gap in his teeth. My fingers clawed through the thin polythene and I managed to grab a small handful of pepper and withdraw my hand.

With a flick of my wrist, I flung it in his direction.

Squawking and gagging as the dust hit his eyes and nose, he skittered away as fast as his legs would carry him. Had the fine cloud of pepper not engulfed me in the blowback, I might have had a chance to escape. As it was, I was left coughing and choking, too, my eyes instantly stinging and watering so badly, I could no longer see clearly. Fortunately, the direct hit put James in such respiratory distress, he was heaving, bent double with strings of snot and saliva streaming down his chin.

"Oooh, I love it when they fight back…makes it so much more exciting," Laurent crooned, rushing to take James's place as I struggled to stand and shoving me back to the floor. With one hand, I managed to reach into my sock and pull out the blade. I tried to get my fingers through the purpose-drilled holes but, with my blurry vision, I couldn't quite focus and he quickly relieved me of it, tossing it to the side.

_Fuck!_ There went my last defense. My whole body shook as each muscle clinched in terror.

"McCarty briefed you well," he hissed, "But your ass is so mouthwatering, I've wanted inside it since I first saw you in the showers."

He grabbed my right butt cheek and squeezed...hard. At this point, I didn't know if the tears on my cheeks were from the pepper or the all-consuming fear of what was coming.

I was in deep trouble, with no weapon and a broken rib, but it was only when James started to move with more purpose, scrubbing his palms over his face, that I knew for sure I'd lost any chance of getting out of this unscathed.

"Cullen, you thonofabitch," he shrieked. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!"

He picked up my blade from where Laurent had tossed it and lunged forward, slashing down my face. I howled in pain as I felt the wound gape open and warm, wet blood pour down my neck.

"James, that's enough," Laurent barked, "You can get even later. Right now, this sweet ass is calling my name."

I don't know what hold Laurent had on him but, amazingly, the bastard stood down.

They say in extreme circumstances, your whole life flashes before your eyes. That wasn't what I saw. No, it was images of my family and all the sadness I'd caused. Rose on visiting day with her broken spirit, Mom's look of disbelief when she'd first seen me in the cell at Forks police station, and Royce's glassy, unfocussed eyes staring up at me from the ground. So much fear, pain, sorrow and regret.

"That table over there looks about the right height. You know what to do," he instructed James, reaching down to free his enormous erection.

I closed my eyes tightly, refusing to capture the looks of twisted glee on their faces as they contemplated taking me against my will. This was going to leave me with a whole new set of nightmares to endure and I couldn't bear seeing it one time, let alone a nightly rerun.

In defeat, I desperately tried to take myself elsewhere as James shoved me forward over the laundry folding table,clawing at the tied sleeves until they came undone and he was able to yank my jumpsuit and boxers down to the floor.

Even though my mind was busy shutting itself down, I was just conscious enough to hear the soft creak of the laundry room door.

I wondered how many more were coming to join the party.

**Gulp...Sooo, who do you think is coming through the door?...Aro? Alec? Emmett? One of the guards? The Warden himself? Someone we haven't met yet? Conspiracy theories and general venting in the box...you know you want to. **

**Claire xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer - I don't own Twilight of the original characters, no copyrite infringement is intended.**

**Thanks to Rita01TX for making everything read better, Keye for encouraging me with her pre reads and bevey99 and EeWee who wanted to read hugs for the beautiful artwork go to Fallingsnow Winter and Claudia (links on my profile page if anyone hasn't seen them yet.)  
**

**A/N Sooo, how's everyone doing clinging to that cliff edge? **

Chapter 11

It was proving impossible to get my mind to retreat into any kind of self-preserving numbness. Physically, I was too weak to fight them off so my only hope was maybe, if I could endure, it would be over quickly. Fighting back tears I dared not show, I clinched my eyes shut and tried to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, the names of my old classmates…anything to keep my focus away from the nightmare threatening my body and soul.

Nothing worked.

My body ached all over and I grimaced against the sharp, stabbing pain from my broken rib. Each shallow breath was drawn raggedly into my raw lungs. Maybe I should have been concentrating on unlocking my muscles as much as possible as the more tense I was, the more it was going to hurt but every tightly wound nerve I possessed quivered and trembled in fear.

"Well, well, ladies. Two against one…that just don't seem fair to me," a new voice drawled.

My heart pounded jubilantly, instantly recognizing that rich baritone.

"McCarty!" Laurent sneered, the confirmation making me sag in relief. If I got through this ordeal in one piece, I was definitely getting a "Kermit loves Alice" tattoo in his honor. James loosened his grip on my shoulder and I twisted my head just in time to see him brandishing my blade in Emmett's direction.

Laurent pulled his lips into a wide smirk, his armed goon affording him an air of cockiness. "What the fuck you want, man? You better get the hell out of here or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" McCarty interrupted with a sardonic chuckle.

Give the devil his due…the guy had huge, hairy balls. Clearly, I was in no shape to back him up in a fight and, with James waving a blade around, this felt like very uneven odds.

"Or I'll beat you to a bloody pulp before I let James take _your_ fingers," he snarled.

McCarty snorted and Laurent practically vibrated with rage, punctuating each word by thrusting his stumpy hand in McCarty's direction. Out in the general population, he'd normally steer clear of him but here, behind a closed door and with two against one, he was beginning to see this as his one shot at getting even.

With Laurent behind me and James to my side pressing one elbow between my shoulder blades, I was struggling to move an inch.

McCarty took one step forward and James lunged, aiming the outstretched weapon straight for his face, and I winced as a large, meaty hand grasped James's forearm by the underside and twisted hard, bending his arm painfully. He squealed as McCarty's free fist punched him with the force of a sledgehammer, simultaneously splitting his nose and lip wide open. James staggered back a few steps, temporarily dazed and bloodied. McCarty took advantage and relieved him of my knife, tucking it quickly into the folds of his jumpsuit.

"You broke by dose, you fuckin' ape!" James screeched as he shoved him hard to the floor.

Laurent's jaw dropped open as McCarty strode past, roughly pushing his shoulder in the process, abruptly loosening his hold on me.

"Hey, thanks...," I coughed as more air finally made its way into my lungs. Holding out a hand, I was shocked when he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me clear off the table. I was too busy hurting and grabbing my injured side to protest as he spun me around to bring my back flush against his hard body. His spare hand snaked around my waist to fist my junk so hard, all I could produce was a pitiful squeak.

"This! Is _**MY **_bitch..." he roared, taking a long swipe along my undamaged cheek with his tongue, "and I won't share him with anyone!"

_Shit! _I swallowed hard, never imagining for one second McCarty might want me for his own, personal fuck buddy. What the hell was I going to do? I was locked up in the same cell with him every night for the next eight years...

..._every night! _My knees buckled and, if he hadn't been holding me up, I would've slumped to the floor.

His fingers tightened in my hair, twisting my head until we were facing each other, his eyes staring intently at my dripping wound.

"Just so we're clear…any more damage to my property and I'll be taking restitution from your scrawny hides."

"Pfttt," Laurent blustered, all swagger, but the tick in his jaw gave away an underlying fear.

"Now, I believe you owe me and Cullen here an apology," McCarty crooned malevolently. His eyes danced between Laurent and James who was still huddled on the floor where he'd left him, cradling his bloodied nose with both hands. Neither of them said a word.

McCarty huffed, releasing my hair, and I slumped to the floor. Glancing down at my t-shirt, I noticed the large, spreading bloodstain for the first time. I suppose I should've been scared at the sight of so much blood but I couldn't bring myself to care.

For such a muscle-bound guy, he was quick on his feet. Realizing James was no longer a threat, he lunged for Laurent, delivering a swift punch to his gut before wrapping a massive arm around his throat and squeezing. Laurent flailed his arms, scraping his nails against the inked skin of McCarty's forearm.

"You ready to say it, yet, motherfucker?" he grunted, his biceps bulging against Laurent's jaw.

Struggling to breathe, his eyes darting wildly from side to side as McCarty pulled harder, cutting off his air. Eventually, when his eyes started to roll up in his head, McCarty took pity on him, loosening his grip and letting him drop to his knees. While Laurent gasped, choking on a lungful of precious air, McCarty bent to speak in his ear.

"Say it," he hissed menacingly.

"I...I'm sorry," Laurent gasped, all traces of his earlier bravado gone.

McCarty's eyes flashed to James who jumped like a startled rabbit that had just suffered a glancing blow from a ten ton truck.

"I'm sorry," he cried quickly.

McCarty backed away from Laurent who was busily rubbing at the angry, red marks around his neck.

"Now that we've got that all settled, I'm taking my bitch home to scrub your stink off of him," he announced. With that, he strode over and pulled me to my feet by one arm. I cried out in pain, my ribs protesting such rough treatment. Half supporting, half dragging me to the door, he paused and turned back.

"And, if I were you, I'd clean this mess up...looks like someone had an accident in here."

That was an understatement. A huge stack of folded laundry had toppled in the struggle and there were puddles of blood all over the table and floor.

Roughly dragging my clothing back to my waist, securing it as best he could with one arm wrapped tightly around me, McCarty propped me up, poked his head out the door to check if the coast was clear and hustled us quickly in the direction of our wing.

Physically and mentally, I was way past exhausted. My brain refused to process what had just happened and what might lie in store once we got back to the partial privacy our cell. Even walking normally was proving to be impossible. My legs had turned to jelly, leaving the tops of my toes scraping the linoleum floor tiles.

"Fuck, man! That was close," McCarty muttered under his breath. "I can't believe Molina lost sight of you like that."

"Huh?" My head was swimming. I didn't really know who Molina was although I had a suspicion it might be the skinny, blond guy I'd seen hanging with him when I first arrived.

"I had someone watching you," he said, as if I should have realized...maybe I should. I thought I was being careful, watching out for an ambush, and all the time I was being followed by one of his cronies and hadn't even noticed. He sighed heavily. "It would've been too obvious if I'd been hanging around all the time myself, so I sent him to tail you."

I didn't know what to say. This nightmare was never going to end. Even though I'd been pumping iron, starting to lay the foundation for developing some muscle where it counted, I was never going to be strong enough to overpower him. Besides, if he had guys around the yard he could call on to watch me like hawks, I had nowhere to run.

By now, we were only a dozen or so yards away from our cell and I started feeling lightheaded, a combination of delayed shock and my panic levels creeping through the roof.

"Please, don't do this," I whimpered as we rounded the corner and entered our corridor. Trying to wriggle out of his iron grip, I stumbled and whined, "I can't do this...please don't make me."

He pulled us to a halt, gripping my arms tightly before staring into my eyes. He frowned as his pupils danced between them and I sagged away from him.

"Fuck! Don't you dare black out on me, Cullen! Ya hear?"

The sound of footsteps jolted him into action again. Swiftly bundling me into the nearest cell, he shoved me to the floor before leaning against the bars, whistling like it was perfectly normal to be hanging around someone else's crib.

"What're you doing here, McCarty?" It was one of the guards. From my position crumpled between the bed and the wall, and with him blocking my view, I couldn't see which one. "The sun's shining…shouldn't you be working out?"

"Sprained a muscle, sir," McCarty lied, casually tucking his bloodstained knuckles out of sight behind his back.

"You need to see the doc?" the guard asked and, for a split second, I considered groaning or kicking the bedframe, anything to alert him to my predicament but, if a screw caught sight of my injuries, I'd be dragged in front of the Warden to explain and then it would all come out…James, Laurent, McCarty, the pepper, and my homemade weapon.

The golden rule in this place was you always keep your mouth shut. You never rat...on anyone. Inmates who squealed were vilified and I wouldn't be able to hide in a hospital bed for the rest of my sentence. Even if my story were believed, they'd all still be waiting to nail me when I got back.

"Is that sexy young nurse on duty?" McCarty asked and I raised my eyes to the heavens. The last thing I needed was for him to get all worked up thinking about some bimbo in a tight, starched uniform.

"Bree? Nah. Tony's on today, I think."

"I'll give it a miss, then," McCarty said and the guard chuckled.

"Well, let me know if it gets any worse, okay?"

"Will do," McCarty answered and the guard left, his retreating footsteps echoing off the sickly painted walls.

"Come on, Cullen. I need to get you home before you collapse on me."

Darting into the stranger's cell, he pulled me up from where I'd slid down the wall, tucked me close into his body, and marched us towards our cell. When we got there, he gently pushed me onto his bunk and went straight to the sink, rinsing out a washcloth to clean my wound.

"Shit, this could probably do with stitches," he muttered under his breath as he dabbed at the drying blood. "Who gave that psycho fucker a blade in the first place?"

"I did," I winced as the cool, wet cloth made the cut on my cheek burn. "I made it in shop. He took it away from me..."

"You made a weapon? Fuck, man. I'm impressed," McCarty praised, nodding in approval at my metal working skills, and I couldn't hold it in any longer…the suspense and fear choked me.

"I don't want to be your bitch," I sniveled, feeling my eyes prickle with tears I couldn't afford to let him see and he laughed. _Fucking laughed!_ What the hell? Was this nothing but a big joke to him? A way of getting off on my fear? I scowled at him.

"Calm down, Kermit. You're not my type. Your sister, definitely, but you...not so much," he chuckled, squinting as he concentrated on cleaning up my damaged face.

"Then, why'd you grab my dick and...you...you licked me?" I think my mind had been trying to blot it out, allowing only small, terrifying snapshots to filter through from my subconscious.

"Look, man. If you want those bastards to come after you again, fine. It was all I could think of doing to protect you. They won't touch you if they think I've claimed you."

"So, you don't really want my ass?" I asked, a cool wave of relief washing over me. He shook his head.

"Nah, but I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not with the nightmares you have...I'd never get a full night's sleep again."

Suddenly, I felt too hot and the room seemed to become elastic as I watched McCarty's face expanding and contracting. My head swayed from side to side as the grey and cream tones of the room turned brightly psychedelic, writhing and melding together. My eyelids fluttered and I fell backwards into a bottomless pit of blackness.

Bright light…clean, crisp and blinding. The bed beneath me felt too comfortable and I wriggled down, enjoying its warm embrace until a sharp pain impaled me and I gasped, holding my side.

"Welcome back, Mr. Cullen."

My head automatically honed in on a sweet, velvety voice. I was stunned to see a beautiful, white clothed angel hovering over me, her pale, delicate features arranged in a sweet smile. Was I dead and, if so, why could I still feel pain? I opened my mouth to ask but my throat was so dry I could only manage a raspy croak.

"Shhh," she whispered, her gentle brown eyes staring deeply into mine as she gently pressed me back into my pillows. "Don't try to speak…I know you're in pain."

My fingers automatically rose to feel along a thick dressing I found covering my cheek. I looked back at my angel. After weeks of grizzled, ugly men, excepting Rose's visit…oh, and that vulgar woman, Vic…Vickie, whatever, her beauty dazzled me.

"Are you an angel?" I asked, still a little disorientated, and she giggled, the sound like tinkling bells.

"No, Mr. Cullen. I'm Nurse Tanner and you're in the infirmary."

Was she the nurse McCarty had mentioned? Bree or was it Bea? If she was, I could understand why he'd been eager to submit himself to her tender care. I glanced around and noticed the row of beds, each with nothing more than a basic bedside table. An unoccupied bed was directly to my right but the one closest to the door was filled by a bulky guy whose wrist was cuffed to the frame. Nurse Tanner followed my line of vision and bent low to whisper in my ear.

"That's Stefan. He's easily agitated. I'd give him a wide berth, if I were you."

Her soft breath caressed my ear and I reveled in its warmth, my nostrils flaring at the sweet, floral scent of her perfume. If I turned my head just a little, my lips would brush against hers. I closed my eyes and imagined how it might feel to actually hold her in my arms, to slide my hands over her firm curves as my tongue slid between those oh so kissable lips. My toes tingled and my dick swelled at the fantasy of being allowed to tug the zipper down the front of her crisp, white uniform.

"You're so beautiful," I blurted, immediately mortified when she scrambled away from my side, her eyes wide, clearly startled by my outburst.

"Mr. Cullen! You seem to have the wrong idea about me...I'm married," she exclaimed.

_Fuck! _I didn't know what I expected to happen. That she would fall into my arms? Or that I could even have a girlfriend in this place? The very idea was preposterous. Here I was, a supposedly violent, convicted criminal with another seven or eight years of hard time ahead of me, and the slightest hint I might've wanted a relationship of any kind had been enough to scare the hell out of her.

"I'm sorry," I cried, feeling my face heating furiously. "I didn't mean anything by it. I thought I was dead and..."

Her body visibly relaxed and I let go some of the tension I was holding, too.

"Well, you have been out of it for quite a while and you did lose a lot of blood," she reasoned, cutting off my wild babbling

"Do you remember what happened to you?" she asked.

My mind raced to piece it all together. The last memory I had was McCarty cleaning my face so I must've passed out in his bunk. How I got from there to this bed, I had no idea. Glancing at her face, I tried to determine whether I could trust her or if she was pumping me for information. I couldn't be sure, so I played it safe.

"I really can't remember anything."

She watched me with a serious expression for a moment before brightening.

"Well, if anything comes to you, be sure to let me know," she instructed cheerfully, straightening the bed sheet before turning away.

Nodding, I watched her walk away, the tight skirt of her uniform showcasing her curvaceous ass, and sighed, willing my erection to deflate. My life was in the toilet. I was battered, weak, and destined to be a virgin until at least my late twenties.

The top half of the door at the end of the ward had a large glass panel and I watched her speak with a prison guard whose eyes flicked up to look at me. I sagged against the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. It was probably only a matter of time before I was called to explain my injuries and I had no idea what McCarty might have told them. I didn't want to get us any deeper in the shit than we already were by giving a different account so, after turning it over and over in my head, I decided claiming amnesia was probably the safest option.

For three more days, I remained in that bed. While I was relieved to be in a safe, clinical bubble, away from the general, zombiefied population with a chance to heal at a distance from James and Laurent, a part of me missed the familiar routines of prison life and McCarty and Alec's company.

From time to time, my mind inevitably wandered back to the horror of what might have been if McCarty hadn't intervened. Those were the times waves of panic overtook me. It was worse at night, in the deep quiet of the ward. With just the ceiling tiles to stare at, I would be transported back to the laundry room, still feeling the pressure of James' elbow between my shoulder blades with Laurent's cruel glee sending shivers down my spine. My family would be horrified if they knew what I'd been through but what hurt most was knowing how helpless they would feel…just like me. It didn't bear thinking about so I blinked away any tears of self-pity and concentrated on regulating my ragged breaths. If anything could distract me, it was thoughts of restoring my bike and all the places I would escape to once I was finally free of this hell hole.

They finally took the dressing off my cheek to let air get to it and I saw the stitches for the first time. Whoever had been given the job of sewing me up was never going to win an award for their needlework. Large, uneven sutures puckered the skin in places. For a teenager, I'd never been overly vain, the death of my father putting things into perspective, but it was clear this was going to leave an unsightly scar along the length of my face. Chalk up another reason no girl was ever going to look at me twice.

On the fourth day, I was ruled fit enough to stand before the Warden.

**Phew! Narrow escape for our boy. What do you reckon the Warden is going to have to say about it? Put something in the box below and we'll talk ;) **

**Claire x**


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